LIFE'S     , 
BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES 


BY 


J.   R.    MILLER,   D.D. 

AUTHOR  OF 

"COME  YE  APART,"  "IN  GREEN   PASTURES,"  "FOR  A  BUSY  DAY,' 
&c.  &c. 


"The  highways  were  unoccupied 
And  the  travellers  walked  through  the  byways." 

Boot  of  'Judges. 
'  Some  seeds  fell  by  the  wayside." 

St.  Matthew's  Gospel. 


T.      NELSON      AND     SONS 

London,  Edinburgh,  and  Neio  York 
1907 


/  y 


2S7&^M~-r- 


/ 


/o. 


"  A  broken  song— it  had  dropped  apart 
Just  as  it  left  the  singer's  heart, 
And  was  never  whispered  upon  the  air, 
Only  breathed  into  the  vague  '  Somewhere.1 

"  A  broken  prayer — only  half  said 
By  a  tired  child  at  his  trundle-bed ; 
While  asking  Jesus  his  soul  to  keep, 
With  parted  lips  he  fell  asleep. 

"  A  broken  life— hardly  half  told 
When  it  dropped  the  burden  it  could  not  hold. 
Of  these  lives  and  songs  and  prayers  half  done, 
God  gathers  the  fragments  every  one." 


21.11484 


P  K  E  F  A  C  E. 


THESE  chapters  are  at  the  best  only  fragments 
of  teaching.  They  have  no  close  connection 
save  as  they  all  touch  life  at  some  point,  and  have 
as  their  aim  the  giving  of  impulse,  cheer,  encourage- 
ment, and  hope.  The  first  thing  in  true  Christian 
living  is  to  get  acquainted  with  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  to  enter  into  close  relations  of  love,  faith, 
and  obedience  with  Him.  Possibly  there  may  be 
some  words  in  these  pages  which  will  give  to  an 
earnest  reader  fresh  glimpses  of  Christ,  and  make  a 
little  plainer  the  way  of  duty  and  the  possibilities  of 
Christian  living.  To  help  even  one  soul  out  of  the 
shadows  into  the  light,  out  of  sorrow  into  joy,  out  of 
weakness  into  strength,  out  of  doubt  into  faith,  will 
make  the  publication  of  this  little  book  worth  while. 

J.  R.  M. 


CONTENTS. 


I.    LIFE'S   BYWAYS   AND   WAYSIDES,          ....  ....  9 

II.  UNTO   HIS   NEST   AGAIN,      ....                 ....  ....  21 

III.  THE   SILENT   CHRIST,            ....                 ....  ....  34 

IV.  TEMPTED   LIKE   AS   WE   ARE,                  ...  .,..  46 
V.  THE   GREATEST   LOVE,          ....                 ....  ....  58 

vi.  SPICES  FOR  CHRIST'S  GRAVE,           ....  ....  70 

VII.  THE  EVERLASTING   ARMS,                        ....  ....  81 

VIII.  THE   DISCIPLE   WHOM   JESUS   LOVED,  ....  92 

IX.  GREAT   IN   GOD'S   SIGHT,     ....                 ....  ....  102 

X.  POSSIBILITIES    OF   FRIENDSHIP,            ....  ....  114 

XI.  PRAYING   FOR   OUR   FRIENDS,                 ....  ....  125 

XII.  TRANSFORMING    POWER   OF    PRAYER,  ....  137 

XIII.  SERVING   OUR   GENERATION,                    ....  ....  149 

XIV.  THE   MINISTRY   OF   SUFFERING,             ....  ....  162 

XV.  REFUGE   FROM   STRIFE   OF  TONGUES,  ....  173 

XVI.  FAITHFULNESS,  ....                 ....  ....  184 

XVII.  THE   LAW   OF   USB   AND   DISUSE,          ....  ....  196 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

XVIII.  PRAYER   FOR   DIVINE   SEARCHING,  ....  ....  205 

XIX.  REMEMBERING   CHRIST'S   WORDS,  ....  ....  214 

XX.  THE   MANLINESS    OF   JESUS,  ....  ....  223 

XXI.  THE  LIVING  CHRIST,  ....  ....  ....  235 

XXII.  FRIENDSHIPS   IN    HEAVEN,  ....  ....  244 

XXIII.  THE   DUTY   OF   FORGETTING,  ....  ...  254 

XXIV.  NIGHT,    AND   JESUS   ABSENT,  ....  ....  266 

XXV.  NUMBERING   OUR   DAYS,       ....  ....  277 


LIFE'S 
BYWAYS    AND    WAYSIDES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES. 

"  There  lives  and  sings  a  little  lonely  brook 
Up  in  a  wild  where  few  men  come  to  look, — 
Living  and  singing  in  the  dreary  pines, 
Yet  creeping  on  to  where  the  daylight  shines. 

"  Pure  from  the  heavens,  in  mountain  chalice  caught, 
It  drinks  the  rain,  as  drinks  the  soul  her  thought ; 
And  down  dim  hollows  where  it  winds  along 
Pours  its  life-burden  of  unlistened  song." 

MANY  of  the  best  things  of  life  are  found  in 
the  byways.  The  map-makers  show  us  the 
great  thoroughfares,  but  they  pay  no  heed  to  the 
country  roads  and  the  paths  that  run  through  the 
meadows,  forests,  and  gardens,  and  climb  the  moun- 
tain sides.  Yet  many  of  the  loveliest  things  in  // 
nature  are  found  along  these  byways^  Much  of  the 
world's  beauty  hides  in  out-of-the-way  nooks,  where 
human  feet  rarely  go.  Some  of  the  sweetest  flowers 
on  the  earth  grow  on  beetling  crags,  or  in  the  crevices 


10  LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES. 

of  cold,  grey  rocks,  where  one  would  scarcely  expect 
to  find  any  trace  of  life.  Nature  does  not  array 
herself  in  loveliness  merely  to  be  seen  of  men ;  for  in 
the  depths  of  great  forests  and  in  inaccessible  valleys 
among  lofty  mountains,  where  no  human  eye  has 
ever  looked  upon  them,  the  flowers  are  as  rich  in 
their  beauty  as  in  the  gardens  where  throngs  are 
ever  passing  and  admiring. 

"  White  lilies  and  fragrant,  behold 
How  coyly  they  nestle  and  fold 
Their  petals  round  hearts  of  deep  gold, 

Wearing  never  a  stain  of  the  sod, — 
And  content  on  the  lake's  placid  breast 
With  shadows  to  float  and  to  rest, 
Giving  freely  their  sweetest  and  best, 

To  forests  primeval,  untrod, — 
Enriching  the  water  and  air, 
And  abiding  in  peace,  unaware 
That  nothing  on  earth  is  more  fair 

Than  white  lilies,  created  by  God ! " 

There  are  byways  also  in  life.  There  are  a  few 
distinguished  people  whom  everybody  seeks  to  know 
and  whose  praises  are  borne  on  every  breeze.  But, 
meanwhile,  in  the  list  of  those  unknown  to  fame  are 
countless  lives  just  as  noble,  as  brave,  as  holy,  as 
unselfish,  as  useful,  as  many  of  those  who  receive  the 
world's  commendation.  The  real  worth  of  men's  and 
women's  lives  is  not  to  be  rated  by  the  measure  of 
their  earthly  fame.  Popularity  itself  is  ofttimes  but 
the  whim  of  a  day,  to  be  replaced  to-morrow  by 


LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES.  11 

forgetf ulness  and  neglect,  perhaps  by  execration. 
There  is  a  picture  by  Tintoretto,  which  shows  Jesus 
on  His  cross.  Then,  as  the  observer  looks  closely,  he 
sees  in  the  background  an  ass  feeding  on  withered 
palm  leaves,  the  palms  which  had  been  waved  on 
Palm  Sunday.  This  feature  of  the  picture  is  in- 
tended to  recall  the  acclaim  of  the  triumphal  entry 
in  contrast  with  the  demand  of  the  people,  five  days 
later,  for  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus. 

Fame  is  often  but  the  glitter  of  an  hour.  Then 
even  when  it  is  born  of  love,  and  is  the  just  meed  of 
true  worth,  it  carries  in  it  no  disparagement  of  other 
lives  which  do  not  receive  human  praise.  Many  of^ 
the  unpraised  have  as  high  encomium  with  God  as 
those  whom  men  applaud.  Many  of  earth's  unsung 
heroes  are  as  real  heroes  in  the  sight  of  angels  as 
those  for  whom  monuments  are  set  up  in  public 
squares,  and  whose  deeds  are  commemorated  in 
oration  and  song.  Many  of  the  world's  nameless 
saints  have  as  high  honour  in  heaven  as  those  whose 
devotion,  service,  and  sacrifice  are  enshrined  in  im- 
mortal memory  in  the  church.  If  all  the  life  of  any 
day  could  be  seen,  it  would  appear  that  in  the  quiet 
byways,  in  lowly  homes,  and  among  the  poor,  there 
are  thousands  of  God's  children  who  are  living  nobly, 
beautifully,  self-sacrificingly,  making  whole  neigh- 
bourhoods purer,  sweeter,  yet  hearing  not  one  word 
of  human  praise.  They  stay  near  the  heart  of 
Christ.  They  come  every  morning  from  His  pres- 


12  LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES. 

ence,  their  very  garments  smelling  of  myrrh,  aloes, 
and  cassia,  out  of  the  ivory  palaces.  They  go  through 
their  humble  daily  rounds  in  the  spirit  of  love. 
They  pour  blessings  on  the  common  paths  wherever 
they  move,  making  the  world  a  little  sweeter,  hap- 
pier, and  better  for  their  staying  in  it.  We  do  not 
know  how  much  of 

"  The  healing  of  the  world 
la  in  its  nameless  saints." 

There  are  byways  of  usefulness.  There  are  in 
every  community  a  few  people  who  are  noted  for 
their  large  charities,  for  their  valuable  services,  or 
for  their  personal  helpfulness.  They  are  like  the 
shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land  to  the 
troubled  and  distressed  who  turn  to  them.  They 
are  comforters  in  every  home  of  sorrow.  Their  in- 
fluence is  a  benediction  over  a  wide  neighbourhood. 
They  have  a  share  in  every  good  work. 

But  there  are  many  others  who,  in  quiet  ways, 
and  without  appreciation,  give  out  blessings  scarcely 
less  rich  and  helpful.  The  circle  in  which  they 
move  is  narrower ;  the  things  they  do  seem  smaller ; 
yet  they  minister  continually  in  Christ's  name,  and 
seek  not  to  be  ministered  unto.  They  shine  as  quiet 
lights,  brightening  a  little  space  about  them. 

Some  of  the  divinest  things  done  on  this  earth  are 
done  by  the  poor  for  others  who  are  poor.  They 
make  sacrifices  and  spend  their  strength  in  rendering 


LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES.  13 

personal  assistance  in  times  of  trouble.  The  other 
day,  at  the  house  of  a  sick  woman,  another  woman 
was  met,  who  had  walked  three  miles,  carrying  one 
child  in  her  arms,  with  another  tugging  at  her  skirts, 
for  tne  purpose  of  putting  her  neighbour's  house  in 
order,  preparing  some  food,  and  doing  whatever  she 
could  for  the  comfort  of  the  patient.  The  rich  give 
their  money,  but  the  poor  give  themselves.  Nothing 
is  holier  than  such  ministry,  and  yet  it  gets  no 
earthly  praise. 

Mary  Lyon  used  to  say  to  her  pupils  on  gradua- 
tion day,  "  My  dear  girls,  when  you  choose  your 
fields  of  labour,  go  where  nobody  else  is  willing  to 
go."  There  are  always  plenty  of  workers  for  con- 
spicuous places.  There  is  no  trouble  in  finding 
pastors  for  great  city  churches  and  men  for  the 
positions  which  pay  large  salaries.  There  are  many 
kinds  of  service  for  which  there  are  scores  of  candi- 
dates. After  having  passed  through  the  experience 
of  considering  the  claims  and  qualifications  of  the 
applicants  for  one  of  these  conspicuous  and  attractive 
places,  one  would  never  think  that  labourers  are 
few.  There  seem  to  be  a  great  many  people  who 
reverse  the  counsel — that  they  go  where  nobody  else 
is  willing  to  go — and  try  to  get  their  field  of  labour 
where  everybody  else  would  like  to  go. 

But,  meanwhile,  what  about  the  byways  of  serv- 
ice and  usefulness  ?  There  is  always  room  enough 
here  for  all  who  will  consecrate  themselves  to  such 


14  LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES. 

work  for  the  Master,  and  there  is  a  field  here  also 
for  the  largest  measure  of  usefulness.  There  is  no 
throng  at  the  gate,  pressing  applications,  urging 
brilliant  gifts,  and  bringing  piles  of  endorsements 
and  commendations,  competing  for  the  privilege  of 
doing  the  Master's  work  in  these  obscure  and  un- 
salaried  places.  There  are  not  many  who  are  really 
seeking  to  go  where  nobody  else  is  willing  to  go. 
Here,  indeed,  it  is  found  that  the  Master's  lament, 
"The  harvest  is  plenteous,  but  the  labourers  are 
few,"  is  still  to  be  made. 

Yet,  in  all  the  world  there  are  no  richer  fields  for 
Christ's  service  than  are  found  in  these  byways. 
No  one  can  do  more  wisely  than  choose  a  place 
and  a  work  which  no  other  one  desires  to  take. 
Years  ago  there  lived  and  wrought  in  Italy  a  great 
artist  in  mosaics.  With  bits  of  glass  and  stone  he 
could  produce  the  most  striking  works  of  art — works 
which  brought  a  great  price.  In  his  shop  there  was 
a  boy  whose  business  it  was  to  keep  the  place  in 
order.  One  day  he  came  to  his  master  and  asked 
that  he  might  have  for  his  own  the  bits  of  broken 
glass  which  were  thrown  upon  the  floor.  The  boy's 
request  was  granted.  "The  bits  are  good  for 
nothing,"  said  the  master;  "do  as  you  please  with 
them."  Day  after  day  the  child  might  have  been 
seen  examining  the  pieces,  throwing  some  away,  and 
laying  others  carefully  aside. 

One  day  the  master  came  upon  a  beautiful  work 


LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES.  15 

of  art  in  an  unused  storeroom.  The  poor  boy,  with 
an  artist's  soul,  had  used  the  rejected  fragments, 
and  had  patiently  and  lovingly  fashioned  them 
into  this — a  real  masterpiece.  So  may  those  do 
who  choose  to  serve  in  life's  byways,  doing  the 
things  of  love  which  no  others  care  to  do.  These 

O 

are  Christliest  ministries.  When  the  Master  comes, 
it  will  be  seen  that  those  who  have  wrought  in 
these  lowly  ways  have  been  preparing  for  them- 
selves a  record  of  blessing  whose  glory  shall  be 
eternal. 

There  is  another  class  of  Christian  service  which 
may  be  called  wayside  ministry.  Much  of  the  best 
work  of  life  is  of  this  order.  We  do  not  plan  to  do 
it.  We  go  out  to  do  other  things,  and  on  our  way 
this  comes  to  our  hand,  and  we  do  it,  and  it  proves 
full  of  helpfulness  and  blessing. 

Many  of  the  most  beautiful  deeds  of  love  in  the 
life  of  Jesus  were  wayside  ministries.  One  day  He 
was  going  with  a  troubled  father  to  heal  his  dying 
child.  As  He  passed  through  the  crowds  there  was  a 
timid  touch  on  the  hem  of  His  garment.  There  was 
a  heart's  cry  in  the  touch,  a  poor  woman's  pleading 
for  healing.  Instantly  Jesus  stopped,  not  minding 
the  appealing  look  in  the  eyes  of  the  anxious  father, 
and  patiently  and  sweetly  ministered  to  the  need  of 
the  sufferer  who  had  crept  up  timidly  behind  Him. 
The  healing  of  this  woman  who  touched  the  hem  of 
His  garment  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  all  the 


16  LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES. 

miracles  of  Jesus ;  and  yet  it  was  a  piece  of  wayside 
ministry,  which  came,  as  it  were,  by  accident,  with- 
out purpose,  into  His  life,  and  was  wrought  as  He 
hurried  on  another  errand 

The  talk  with  Nicodemus  seems  also  to  have  been 
a  bit  of  wayside  ministry.  It  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  planned  for  as  part  of  the  day's  work. 
We  may  suppose  that  one  evening  the  Master  came 
to  the  house  of  a  friend,  weary  from  the  day's  toils 
and  strifes.  He  was  preparing  for  a  quiet,  restful 
evening,  when  a  visitor  was  announced.  Nicodemus, 
the  ruler,  came  in  and  desired  to  talk  awhile  with 
the  Rabbi.  Then  followed  that  wonderful  conversa- 
tion which  has  proved  such  a  blessing  all  the  years 
since,  and  which  was  but  a  fragment  of  unstudied 
wayside  talk. 

Another  time  the  Master  was  very  weary  after  a 
long  journey  in  the  heat,  and  sat  down  on  an  old 
well-curb  to  rest,  while  His  disciples  went  to  a  neigh- 
bouring village  to  buy  food,  for  He  was  hungry  as 
well  as  tired.  He  had  just  settled  down  for  a  quiet 
time  of  rest,  when  there  came  a  woman  to  the  well 
to  draw  water.  Her  sore  need  appealed  to  His  quick 
sympathy,  and  He  roused  Himself  to  help  her.  The 
conversation  which  took  place — one  of  the  very  gems 
of  the  gospel — was  also  an  hour's  wayside  talk. 

These  incidents  illustrate  and  confirm  the  state- 
ment that  much  of  the  most  valuable  service  in  the 
life  of  Jesus  was  wayside  ministry.  As  He  went  to 

(638)  '  ' 


LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES.  17 

and  fro  on  His  purposed  errands,  these  opportunities 
for  helpfulness  were  continually  breaking  in  upon 
Him;  and  He  never  thrust  one  of  them  from  Him. 
There  was  not  a  day,  however  full,  whose  interstices 
were  not  crowded  with  common  kindnesses  to  those 
He  met  on  the  way — pieces  of  beautiful  wayside 
work.  Sometimes  He  was  working  miracles,  some- 
times He  was  preaching,  but  always,  wherever  He 
went,  He  was  serving  in  a  thousand  gentle  ways. 

There  is  a  legend  that  when  Jesus  arose  from  His 
grave  and  walked  out  of  Joseph's  garden,  white  lilies 
blossomed  in  His  footsteps,  so  that  wherever  He  went 
bloom  and  beauty  sprang  up.  The  legend  faintly 
illustrates  what  was  true  of  Him  all  His  days  on 
earth.  Blessings  followed  in  His  footsteps.  The 
sick  were  healed,  discouraged  ones  were  cheered, 
sorrowing  ones  were  comforted,  and  the  weary  re- 
ceived inspiration  and  strength  from  His  words. 

In  our  degree — lesser  because  of  the  littleness  of 
our  lives — all  of  us  may  continually  perform  a  way- 
side ministry  as  we  go  along  on  our  purposed  errands 
for  God.  We  have  our  allotted  tasks  for  the  day, 
and  these  are  enough  to  fill  our  hands.  But  this 
need  not  make  machines  of  us.  We  have  human 
hearts,  and  while  we  are  busy,  with  not  a  moment 
to  lose,  our  sympathy  and  love  may  be  flowing  out 
to  all  whom  we  meet  or  touch.  We  may  be  kind  to 
our  fellows  who  are  working  beside  us.  We  may 
be  thoughtful  in  speech.  Our  face  may  carry  in  it 

(538)  2 


18  LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES. 

a  benediction  for  every  one  who  passes.  Our  merest 
hand-shake  and  cheerful  "  Good-morning  "  may  be 
full  of  God's  hearty  love,  and  may  send  those  whom 
we  salute  to  a  brighter,  braver,  happier  day. 

r"  Such  a  heart  I'd  bear  in  my  bosom, 
That  threading  the  crowded  street, 
My  face  should  shed  joy  unlocked  for 

On  every  poor  soul  I  meet ; 
And  such  wisdom  should  crown  my  forehead, 

That,  coming  where  counsels  stand, 
I  should  carry  the  thoughts  of  justice, 
And  stablish  the  weal  of  the  land." 

Such  wayside  kindnesses  will  never  hinder  us  in 
our  day's  task- work.  |  Jesus  bade  His  disciples  salute 
no  man  by  the  way  as  they  passed  abroad  on  His 
errands.  That  was  because  in  Oriental  lands  it  took 
a  long  while  to  make  such  a  salutation,  and  time 
spent  in  such  a  senseless  way  was  wasted,  when 
human  lives  were  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the 
messenger  and  the  word  of  mercy  he  bore.  But  we 
can  give  out  our  blessings  of  love  "as  we  go  by,  with- 
out wasting  time  or  dallying  on  our  way.  We  need 
not  even  slacken  our  pace  nor  lose  a  moment. 

Then,  even  if  sometimes  services  of  love  do  break 
into  our  busy  days  and  do  hinder  us  somewhat,  may 
it  not  be  that  these  are  fragments  of  God's  will,  bits 
of  God's  work,  sent  for  us  to  do,  even  at  the  cost  of 
interrupting  our  own  plans,  breaking  into  our  own 
programme  ?  This  is  the  only  way  the  Master  can 
get  some  of  us  to  do  any  work  of  His,  for  our  hearts 


LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES.  19 

and  hands  are  so  full  of  our  own  things  that  we 
have  no  time  for  tasks  for  Him.  We  need  never 
fear  that  our  hands  will  be  any  less  full  at  the  end 
because  we  have  slackened  our  pace  a  little  now  and 
then  to  do  some  slight  wayside  service  for  Christ. 

There  is  a  story  of  one  who  began  to  run  in  a 
race,  and  ran  well — was  foremost  of  all.  But  by- 
and-by  he  stopped  to  lift  up  a  fallen  child  and  place 
it  out  of  danger,  thus  losing  something  of  what  he 
had  gained.  Farther  on,  a  fainting  comrade  appealed 
to  his  sympathy,  and  he  turned  aside  to  help  him 
to  rise.  Again  he  stayed  his  steps  for  a  little  to 
guide  a  feeble  woman  to  safety.  Whenever  duty 
called  or  sorrow  appealed,  he  left  his  chosen  path 
to  give  aid  or  comfort.  Thus  he  fell  behind,  and 
another  won  the  prize  which  might  have  been  his. 
lie  stood  unheeded,  uncrowned,  with  empty  hands, 
at  the  end.  But  who  will  say  that  in  heaven's  sight 
he  was  not  the  real  winner  of  the  race  ?  He  had 
lost  the  prize,  but  he  had  brightened  all  the  course 
with  gentle  ministries  of  love.  Many  of  what  to 
men  seem  failures  will  prove  in  the  great  revealing 
to  have  been  divinest  successes.  To  be  true  and  to 
strive  truly  is  to  succeed,  though  nothing  seem  to 
come  of  it.  Kate  Tucker  Goode  writes : — 

"  He  cast  his  net  at  morn  where  fishers  toiled, 

At  eve  he  drew  it  empty  to  the  shore ; 
He  took  the  diver's  plunge  into  the  sea, 
But  thence  within  his  hand  no  pearl  he  bore. 


20  LIFE'S  BYWAYS  AND  WAYSIDES. 

"  He  ran  a  race,  but  never  reached  his  goal ; 

He  sped  an  arrow,  but  he  missed  his  aim  ; 
And  slept  at  last  beneath  a  simple  stone, 
With  no  achievements  carved  about  his  name. 

"  Men  called  it  failure ;  but  for  my  own  part 

I  dare  not  use  that  word,  for  what  if  heaven 
Shall  question,  ere  its  judgment  shall  be  read, 
Not  '  Hast  thou  won  ? '  but  only  '  Hast  thou  striven  ? ' " 

It  may  be  that  those  who  live  a  life  of  love  in  this 
world,  while  they  also  do  well  their  part  in  the 
business  of  the  passing  days,  will  sometimes  seem 
losers.  They  have  not  gotten  on  so  well  in  the 
world  as  their  competitors.  Yet  their  loss  is  truest 
gain.  It  is  not  worth  while  to  live  at  all,  if  love 
be  left  out.  The  priest  and  the  Levite  got  clear  of 
some  delay,  some  trouble,  and  some  cost  by  passing 
on  when  they  saw  the  wounded  man  by  the  way- 
side ;  but  who  will  say  that  the  good  Samaritan  did 
not  make  more  of  his  opportunity  that  day  than 
they  did  ?  The  priest  and  the  Levite  neglected  the 
wayside  work  for  humanity  which  was  offered  to 
them,  sparing  themselves  trouble,  but  missing  the 
reward  of  faithfulness.  The  good  Samaritan  stopped 
in  his  journey  to  do  love's  service,  doing  it  well, 
making  personal  sacrifice  to  do  it ;  but  he  was  never 
sorry  for  it,  nor  the  poorer  for  what  it  cost  him. 

Life's  byways  and  waysides  are  full  of  opportuni- 
ties for  noble  service.  He  is  wise  who  is  not  afraid 
to  leave  the  beaten  path  and  the  purposed  task  to 
do  God's  work  where  it  waits. 


CHAPTER  II. 

UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN. 

"  If  I  can  stop  one  heart  from  breaking, 

I  shall  not  live  in  vain  ; 
If  I  can  ease  one  life  the  aching, 

Or  cool  one  pain, 
Or  help  one  fainting  robin 

Unto  his  nest  again, 
I  shall  not  live  in  vain." 

EMILY  DICKINSON. 

ONE  day  President  Lincoln  and  a  friend  were 
walking  together  in  a  field,  when  they  found 
a  little  bird  fluttering  in  the  grass.  It  had  fallen 
out  of  its  nest  in  the  bushes,  and  could  not  get  back 
again.  The  great,  gentle-hearted  man  stopped  in 
his  walk,  stooped  down,  picked  up  the  little  thing, 
and  put  it  back  into  its  place.  If  it  was  a  noble 
deed  for  a  great  man  to  lift  a  fluttering  bird  back 
into  its  place,  if  even  helping  one  fainting  robin  unto 
its  nest  again  redeems  a  life  from  uselessness,  what 
work  of  high  honour  is  it  to  help  back  a  fainting 
human  soul  into  its  nest  of  faith  and  love  in  the 
bosom  of  Christ  1  That  is  the  work  Christ  is  doing 


22  UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN. 

continually.  That  is  what  He  wants  us  to  do  in  His 
name,  when  we  find  a  soul  that  has  fallen  out  of  the 
nest  of  trust  and  peace. 

John  the  Baptist  had  fallen  out  of  his  nest  of  con- 
fidence. This  seems  very  strange  to  us.  We  remem- 
ber his  noble  words  as  he  foretold  the  Messiah,  then 
as  he  pointed  Him  out  to  his  disciples  and  spoke 
of  His  glory.  We  remember  his  sublime  courage 
when  he  faced  the  terrible  Herod  and  reproved  him 
for  his  sin.  Is  it  possible  that  a  shadow  of  doubt 
ever  came  over  his  sky  ?  Yet  listen  to  the  question 
which  his  disciples  are  sent  to  ask  Jesus :  "  Art  thou 
he  that  should  come,  or  do  we  look  for  another?" 
Why  should  such  heroic  faith  as  we  see  in  John  by 
the  Jordan  be  changed  to  doubt  and  fear  a  few 
months  later  ? 

We  must  remember  John's  circumstances.  For  a 
few  months  multitudes  flocked  to  hear  him  preach, 
and  then  the  throngs  melted  away.  His  mission  was 
only  to  prepare  the  way  for  Christ,  and  when  Christ 
came  John  paled  as  the  morning  star  pales  before 
the  sunrise.  It  is  hard  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who 
a  little  while  ago  sang  one's  praises.  Then,  John 
was  now  in  prison  in  one  of  the  gloomiest  castles 
ever  built,  in  one  of  the  most  desolate  places  of  the 
earth.  To  any  man  such  a  prison  must  have  had 
its  dreadful  horrors,  but  to  John  this  imprisonment 
must  have  been  an  unspeakable  bitterness.  He  had 
lived,  a  child  of  nature,  in  the  freedom  of  the  moun- 


UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN.  23 

tains  and  the  deserts,  breathing  the  air  of  heaven 
and  gazing  up  by  night  at  the  stars.  Worse  than 
death  to  this  untamed,  passionate  spirit  was  the 
prison  of  Hachserus.  No  wonder  that,  shut  up  in 
its  desolate  dungeon,  this  great  eagle  soul  began  to 
lose  its  majestic  courage. 

Meanwhile,  to  his  prison  there  came  fragmentary 
reports  of  the  ministry  of  Jesus.  He  was  very 
popular.  Throngs  followed  Him.  He  wrought  many 
miracles.  But  why  was  His  forerunner  left  unhelped, 
undelivered,  in  this  dark  dungeon  ?  He  had  been 
faithful  to  Jesus ;  why  did  not  Jesus  come  and  open 
these  prison  doors  for  him  ?  Among  so  many  mighty 
works,  could  not  one  be  wrought  to  release  him  ? 
Was  it  just,  was  it  right  that  he  should  be  neglected 
here,  in  the  darkness  and  the  wretchedness,  while 
Jesus  was  in  the  midst  of  such  honour?  Perhaps 
such  questions  arose  in  the  mind  of  John  as  he  lay 
in  his  dungeon  and  heard  of  the  works  of  Jesus.  Is 
it  any  wonder  that  "the  eye  of  the  caged  eagle  began 
to  film  "  ? 

There  are  true  Christians  in  every  age  who  have 
had  their  times  of  spiritual  discouragement.  No 
doubt  a  child  of  God  should  always  rejoice.  Yet 
some  of  the  holiest  saints  who  ever  lived  have  had 
experiences  of  disheartenment.  What  earnest  soul 
is  there  that  never  finds  in  the  passionate  supplica- 
tion and  longing  of  the  forty-second  Psalm  its  own 
liturgy  of  longing  ? 


24  UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN. 

There  are  many  causes  which  may  produce  spiritual 
depression.  Some  people  have  gloomy  temperaments. 
They  live  in  the  valleys,  and  the  valleys  do  not  catch 
the  morning  sunshine  until  long  after  the  mountain 
tops  have  been  gilded.  Thus  Thomas  was  the  last 
of  the  disciples  to  get  the  joy  of  the  resurrection. 
This  same  disposition  keeps  many  good  Christian 
people  much  of  the  time  in  the  shadows.  Sometimes 
sickness  is  the  cause  of  despondent  feelings.  Oft- 
times  persons  whose  faith  is  ordinarily  bright  and 
clear  are  cast  into  gloom  when  there  is  no  spiritual 
reason  whatever,  solely  by  their  physical  condition 
Sore  trials  sometimes  cause  the  clouding  of  faith. 
Peter  wrote :  "  Ye  are  in  heaviness  through  manifold 
trials."  Sometimes,  in  the  sharpness  and  in  the  con- 
tinuance of  affliction,  the  heart  grows  weary  and  is 
thrown  out  of  its  nest  of  peace.  Or  there  may  be 
mental  perplexities  caused  by  questionings  that  re- 
ceive no  answer. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  causes  which  tend  to  pro- 
duce spiritual  disheartenment,  and  lead  good  people 
to  ask  whether  or  not  Jesus  is  the  Saviour  and  the 
Friend  they  had  supposed  Him  to  be.  We  all  know 
that  we  do  not  need  to  have  these  doubts  and  fears, 
that  we  should  never  be  shaken  for  a  moment  out  of 
our  nest  of  confidence  and  peace.  The  word  of  God 
is :  "  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind 
is  stayed  on  thee."  Amid  all  trials,  gloom,  sorrows, 
mysteries,  questionings,  there  is  one  blessed  truth  on 


UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN.  25 

which  we  may  rest.  Browning  puts  it  in  one  great, 
noble  sentence : — 

"God,  Thou  art  love ;  I  build  my  faith  on  Thee." 

Yet  we  are  all  human,  and  weak  because  human. 
The  strongest  of  us  may  be  swept  away  for  a  time 
from  our  refuge,  or  at  least  may  lose  the  full  joy  of 
our  Christian  hope. 

What  should  we  do  in  such  experiences  ?  We 
have  the  answer  in  the  example  of  John.  He  sent 
two  of  his  disciples  to  Jesus  to  ask  Him  plainly, 
"  Art  thou  he  that  should  come,  or  do  we  look  for 
another  ?  "  Instead  of  nursing  his  questionings  in 
the  gloom  of  his  dungeon,  he  laid  them  at  once  before 
Christ.  That  is  what  we  should  do  with  all  our 
fears  and  perplexities — take  them  to  Christ.  No 
other  can  answer  them  so  well  as  He  can.  No  other 
will  answer  them  so  gladly,  so  wisely,  so  lovingly. 
He  was  not  impatient  with  John  when  he  sent  to 
ask  his  question.  Good  men  sometimes  are  impatient 
with  any  who  have  doubts,  or  who  are  swept  away 
from  their  moorings.  But  Jesus  never  was.  With 
unbelief  He  had  no  sympathy.  He  not  only  mar- 
velled at  men's  unbelief,  it  angered  Him.  But  with 
doubt,  or  sincere  questioning,  He  had  infinite  patience. 

Mark  well  the  distinction  between  doubt  and 
unbelief.  "Doubt  is  can't  believe,"  says  a  recent 
writer;  "unbelief  is  won't  believe.  Doubt  is  honesty; 
unbelief  is  obstinacy.  Doubt  is  looking  for  light; 


26  UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN. 

unbelief  is  content  with  the  darkness."  Jesus 
severely  reproved  unbelief ;  but  when  any  one  came 
to  Him  with  questionings,  seeking  light,  desiring  to 
find  the  truth,  He  dealt  with  him  with  wondrous 
gentleness.  He  sat  down  and  talked  with  Nicodemus. 
He  showed  Thomas  the  wounds  in  His  hands  and 
feet.  He  let  John  know  the  beautiful  work  he  was 
doing.  He  is  the  same  to-day.  If  we  have  ques- 
tionings or  fears,  we  may  be  sure  of  most  patient, 
gentle  dealing  if  we  bring  them  to  Him.  He  will 
never  chide;  He  will  teach  us  what  we  want  to 
know.  One  writes: — 

"  The  yeara 

Roll  back,  and  through  a  mist  of  tears 
I  see  a  child  turn  from  her  play 
And  seek  with  eager  feet  the  way 
That  led  her  to  her  father's  knee. 

"  '  If  God  is  good  and  kind,'  said  she, 
'  Why  did  He  let  my  roses  die  ? ' 
A  moment's  pause,  a  smile,  a  sigh, 
And  then,  '  I  do  not  know,  my  dear ; 
Some  questions  are  not  answered  here.' 

11 '  But  is  it  wrong  to  ask  ? '    '  Not  so, 

My  child.    That  we  should  seek  to  know 
Proves  right  to  know,  beyond  a  doubt ; 
And  so  some  day  we  shall  find  out 
Why  roses  die.' 

"  And  then  I  wait, 
Sure  of  my  answer  soon  or  late  ; 
Secure  that  love  doth  hold  for  me 
The  key  of  life's  great  mystery  ; 
And  oh  !  BO  glad  to  leave  it  there ! 
Though  my  dead  roses  were  so  fair." 


UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN.  27 

Our  Lord's  own  word  is  always  comforting  and 
assuring  when  we  cannot  know :  "  What  I  do  thou 
knowest  not  now;  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter," 
It  is  faith  we  want.  Faith  is  believing  when  we 
cannot  see.  Wait  a  little  longer,  and  all  the  sad 
mystery  shall  be  cleared  away.  A  tourist  tells  of 
sailing  out  of  the  muddy  waters  of  Lake  Huron  into 
the  crystal  waters  of  Lake  Superior.  When  night 
came  on  the  vessel  was  in  Lake  Huron,  and  his  eye 
could  not  penetrate  beneath  the  surface.  Rising  in 
the  morning  he  came  on  deck,  and,  looking  over  the 
prow,  he  was  surprised  to  find  how  clear  the  water 
was  through  which  the  vessel  was  moving.  He 
could  see  the  great  jagged  rocks,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
the  keel  would  strike  upon  them.  In  reality,  how- 
ever, they  were  fifty  or  sixty  feet  below  the  surface. 
The  water  was  so  clear  that  the  depth  appeared  to 
be  only  a  few  feet. 

We  are  moving  now  through  dark,  cloudy  waters. 
Mysteries  impenetrable  surround  us.  We  cannot 
understand  the  things  that  befall  us;  we  cannot 
comprehend  the  deep  things  of  God,  of  Christ,  of  the 
Bible,  and  of  Providence.  But  as  we  move  on  we 
shall  pass  at  length  out  of  the  obscurities  and  mys- 
teries into  the  clear,  crystal  knowledge  of  heaven. 
It  is  said  in  Revelation  that  there  shall  be  no  more 
sea  in  heaven.  To  the  ancients  the  sea  was  the 
emblem  of  mystery.  To  say  there  shall  be  no  sea  in 
heaven  means  that  there  shall  be  no  mystery  there. 


28  UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN. 

All  that  here  is  dark  and  strange  shall  there  be 
made  clear. 

The  comfort  Christ  gives  to  those  who  come  to 
Him  with  their  doubts  and  fears  may  not  be  the 
removal  of  the  things  that  cause  the  darkness.  John 
was  not  released  from  prison  after  he  had  sent  his 
disciples  to  Jesus.  Jesus  did  not  go  out  to  the  desert 
and  tear  down  the  frowning  walls  that  shut  His 
friend  away  in  the  gloom.  John  was  left  there,  and 
before  a  great  while  died  as  a  martyr.  But  when 
the  messengers  returned  and  told  their  master  what 
they  had  seen  and  what  Jesus  had  said  to  them,  we 
may  be  sure  John's  doubts  fled  away  and  assurance 
of  peace  came  again  into  his  heart. 

Nor  will  Jesus  now  always  remove  the  things  that 
discourage  us.  But  He  will  give  us  grace  to  believe 
in  His  love  even  when  we  cannot  see,  and  to  wait  in 
faith  for  the  fuller,  clearer  revealing.  Indeed,  some- 
times the  sorrows  and  losses  that  cause  us  so  much 
darkness  and  doubt  are  caused  by  the  removing  of 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  our  wider  vision.  There 
were  some  lilac  bushes  at  the  window  of  a  farmer's 
house.  They  kept  out  the  sunshine  and  air,  and 
they  obstructed  the  view  so  that  the  mountains  could 
not  be  seen.  One  day  the  farmer's  axe  was  heard, 
and  bush  after  bush  was  cut  away.  "  Only  a  little 
more  cutting,"  he  said,  "  and  we  shall  get  it."  Then 
the  mountains  could  be  seen  from  the  window.  It 
is  ofttimes  thus  with  our  earthly  joys.  They  are 


UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN.  29 

very  sweet,  but  they  hide  our  view  of  the  Delectable 
Mountains.  Money  is  lost.  Loved  ones  are  taken 
from  us.  Earthly  honours  are  cut  off.  Luxuries  are 
swept  away.  Remorselessly  the  axe  cuts  into  our 
hedgerows  of  beauty,  and  we  cry  out  in  alarm.  But 
when  the  cutting  is  done,  we  see  more  clearly ;  we 
have  wider  views ;  we  behold  lovely  things  we  had 
never  seen  before.  One  says,  "  I  never  knew  the 
meaning  of  that  precious  text  till  my  trouble  came." 
Another  says,  "  I  never  loved  God  so  much  as  since 
He  took  my  baby  home."  Another  says,  "  I  never 
knew  what  it  was  to  trust  God  and  rest  in  His  love 
until  my  money  was  taken  away."  Thus  our  very 
trials,  which  at  the  time  darken  the  sky  for  us,  help 
ofttimes  to  lead  us  to  firmer  faith  and  securer  trust. 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  the  way  in  which  Jesus 
answered  John's  doubts.  While  the  messengers  were 
present,  waiting  for  the  answer,  Jesus  cured  many 
persons  of  diseases  and  plagues,  and  of  evil  spirits, 
and  on  many  blind  He  bestowed  sight.  Then  He 
said,  "  Go  your  way,  and  tell  John  what  things  ye 
have  seen  and  heard:  the  blind  receive  their  sight, 
the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  the  deaf  hear, 
the  dead  are  raised  up,  the  poor  have  good  tidings 
preached  to  them."  John  had  had  wrong  views  of 
Christ's  mission.  Jesus  shows  him  that  the  true 
glory  of  His  Messiahship  was  in  its  tenderness  and 
grace,  its  gentle  deeds,  its  blessings  of  healing  and 
comfort,  its  thoughtfulness  for  the  poor. 


30  UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN. 

What  was  it  in  these  works  that  proved  Christ's 
Messiahship  ?  Was  it  the  fact  that  they  were  super- 
natural ?  No ;  it  was  primarily  the  fact  that  they 
were  deeds  of  love.  We  may  not  undervalue  the 
supernatural  in  the  ministry  of  Christ,  as  evidence 
of  His  divine  mission.  The  God  shines  out  in  all 
His  life.  Yet  He  never  wrought  a  miracle  merely 
for  display,  or  to  prove  His  divinity.  The  real 
glory  of  Christ  was  in  the  divine  love  that  wrought 
in  and  through  all  His  miracles  as  well  as  in  His 
most  common  acts.  The  glory  of  Christ  is  seen  to- 
day wherever  Christianity  has  gone.  Look  at  the 
works  of  mercy  which  are  wrought  in  Christ's  name. 
Go  among  the  hospitals,  into  asylums  for  the  blind, 
refuges  for  orphans,  and  homes  for  the  aged  and  for 
the  poor.  Follow  the  Christian  workers  of  any  true 
Christian  church  in  their  rounds  of  blessed  ministry 
among  the  sick,  the  troubled,  the  sorrowing,  and  in 
their  visits  to  the  poor,  the  outcast,  and  the  prisoner. 
Men  say  miracles  ceased  with  the  apostles.  Well, 
grant  it ;  but  "  the  greater  works  "  which  Christ  said 
His  followers  should  do — greater  than  He  had  done 
— have  never  ceased. 

The  power  of  Christ  is  working  in  His  church  to- 
day as  really  as  ever  it  did.  It  is  hampered  and 
hindered,  and  ofttimes  balked  of  its  loving  purpose, 
by  the  imperfection  of  the  lives  of  those  who  repre- 
sent Christ;  the  grace  of  Christ  loses  much  of  its 
sweetness  and  its  power  in  its  transmission  through 


UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN.  81 

the  poor  human  lives  which  are  the  lines  of  com- 
munication between  God  and  the  world.  Yet  with 
all  that  is  imperfect  in  the  church,  God's  glory  is 
flowing  everywhere,  and  the  world  is  being  blessed. 

There  is  a  practical  lesson  which  we  should  not 
fail  to  take  in  passing.  If  we  would  give  the  world 
evidence  that  Christianity  is  divine,  we  must  do  as 
Jesus  did  when  He  would  answer  John's  question. 
We  are  not  called  to  open  blind  eyes,  to  unstop  deaf 
ears,  to  heal  the  lame,  to  raise  the  dead ;  but  we  are 
called  to  be  loving  and  sympathetic,  comforters  of 
sorrow,  friends  to  the  widow  and  orphan,  and  a 
blessing  to  every  life  that  touches  ours. 

One  who  had  been  a  student  of  theology  writes : 
"  One  of  my  beloved  professors  had  been  giving  us  a 
very  able  lecture  upon  some  of  those  risk  questions 
of  Biblical  criticism — questions  which  somewhat 
induced  doubt  and  tended  to  unsettle.  But  it  so 
happened  that  that  very  afternoon,  when  the  lecture 
was  over,  I  had  to  crush  my  hat  on  my  head  and  run 
to  my  district.  I  had  something  there  to  do  which 
checked  and  corrected  all  unsettling  effects  of  Bib- 
lical criticism.  I  had  to  go  into  one  house  where, 
upon  the  only  table  in  the  room,  there  was  a  long 
coffin,  with  two  small  ones  beside  it.  The  mother 
had  died  suddenly,  and  two  little  children  also  had 
died  within  the  same  day.  As  I  stood  there,  all 
notion  of  being  unsettled  by  what  I  had  heard  an 
hour  before  utterly  vanished  from  me." 


32  UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN. 

There  is  no  other  cure  for  doubt  so  effective  as  to 
take  up  the  cross  of  Christ  and  go  after  Him  into  the 
lanes  and  alleys,  and  amid  the  world's  poverty,  and 
need,  sorrow,  and  sin,  setting  our  feet  in  the  prints  of 
His  shoe,  and  carrying  His  gospel  into  the  darkest 
places.  In  doing  His  will  we  shall  learn  to  know 
of  the  doctrine.  In  trying  to  do  His  work  we  shall 
find  solution  for  the  mysteries  that  perplex  us.  In- 
stead, therefore,  of  troubling  ourselves  over  the  diffi- 
culties that  men  are  finding,  perplexing  ourselves 
over  the  questions  they  are  raising,  we  should  turn 
our  faces  toward  the  world's  suffering  and  woe,  and 
seek  to  carry  into  it  a  little  of  the  love  and  grace  of 
Chrisk  This  is  a  better  cure  by  far  for  our  doubts 
and  perplexities  than  we  can  ever  find  in  contro- 
versy and  disputation. 

Longfellow,  in  one  of  his  poems,  tells  of  passing 
through  his  garden  and  seeing  on  the  ground  a 
fallen  bird-nest,  ruined  and  full  of  ruin.  But  when 
he  looked  up  into  the  tree  he  saw  the  little  birds, 
uncomplaining,  busy  there  among  the  branches, 
building  a  new  nest  for  themselves.  Here  is  a 
lesson  for  any  who  have  lost  the  joy  of  their  Chris- 
tian faith.  The  nest  of  trust  in  which  they  once 
found  such  sweet  peace  has  been  torn  to  shreds  by 
the  storms  of  trial  or  by  the  wintry  winds  of  doubt. 
It  seems  to  them,  perhaps,  that  they  can  never  again 
have  the  joy  they  once  had  in  Christ.  They  are 
disheartened,  almost  in  despair.  But  is  it  not  worth 


UNTO  HIS  NEST  AGAIN.  83 

while  to  fly  up  again  among  the  branches  and  to  re- 
build the  torn  and  ruined  nest  ?  Doubt  is  too  sad  a 
state  to  stay  in  even  for  a  day.  Believe  in  the  love 
of  God,  the  divinity  of  Christ,  the  atonement  made 
on  the  cross,  and  the  revelation  of  God  in  His  word. 
Seek  to  realize  in  your  own  life  the  gentleness  and 
mercy  of  the  love  of  Christ.  Thus  you  will  build 
again  a  nest  of  peace  for  your  soul,  and  your  lost  joy 
will  be  restored. 


(5S8) 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  SILENT  CHRIST. 

"God  answers  prayer:  sometimes,  when  hearts  are  wefth; 
He  gives  the  very  gifts  believers  seek. 
But  often  faith  must  learn  a  deeper  rest, 
And  trust  God's  silence  when  He  does  not  speak ; 
For  He  whose  name  is  Love  will  send  the  best. 
Stars  may  burn  out,  nor  mountain  walls  endure, 
But  God  is  true ;  His  promises  are  sure 
To  those  who  seek." 

MTBA  GOODWIN  PLANT/. 

T  T  SUALLY  Jesus  was  quick  to  answer  cries  for 

\~s      help.      No   mother's   heart   ever   waked    so 

easily  to  her  child's   calls   as   the   heart  of  Christ 

waked  to  the  calls  of  human  distress.     But  once  at 

least  He  was  silent  to  a  very  bitter  cry. 

It  was  over  in  the  edge  of  a  heathen  country.  The 
story  begins  by  saying  that  He  went  into  a  house 
and  wanted  nobody  to  know  that  He  was  there.  He 
desired  a  little  time  of  quiet.  Even  Jesus  needed 
sometimes  to  rest.  But  He  could  not  be  hid. 

An  Indian  legend  tells  of  a  sorcerer  who  sought  to 
hide  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  in  three  great  chests, 
but  failed  in  his  effort.  One  cannot  hide  light;  it 


THE  SILENT  CHRIST.  35 

reveals  itself  by  its  beams.  One  cannot  hide  fragrant 
flowers ;  their  perfume  reveals  their  place  of  conceal- 
ment. There  is  a  kind  of  wood  in  China,  which, 
though  buried  in  the  earth,  yet  fills  all  the  air  about 
it  with  its  perfumes.  Nor  can  good  lives  be  hid.  No 
matter  how  modest  and  shy  they  are,  wherever  they 
go,  people  know  of  their  presence.  There  is  some- 
thing in  them  which  always  reveals  them.  Never 
was  there  another  such  rich,  loving,  helpful  life  in 
this  world  as  that  of  Jesus.  He  was  everybody's 
friend.  His  heart  was  full  of  compassion.  His  hand 
was  ever  stretched  out  to  minister.  No  wonder  He 
could  not  be  hid  even  in  a  strange  place.  Burdened 
hearts  would  be  drawn  to  Him  by  the  very  power  of 
His  love  and  sympathy. 

A  heathen  woman  heard  of  Him  that  day,  and  came 
to  Him  with  a  pitiful  plea.  It  is  worth  while  to 
notice  that  it  was  this  woman's  trouble  that  sent  her 
to  Christ.  If  all  had  been  sunshine  in  her  house,  she 
would  not  have  gone  to  seek  Him.  This  is  one  of 
the  blessings  of  trouble — it  often  leads  us  into  ex- 
periences of  blessing  we  never  should  have  had  but 
for  our  suffering.  We  never  shall  know  till  we  have 
gone  to  heaven  how  much  we  owe  to  pain  and  sorrow. 
Then  we  shall  see  that  the  long  days  when  one  was 
sick  in  our  house  were  days  of  wondrous  divine  re- 
vealing, that  what  we  called  our  misfortunes  and 
calamities  were  really  pieces  of  shaded  path  leading 
to  nobler  blessings. 


36  THE  SILENT  CHRIST. 

It  is  interesting  to  think  of  the  good  that  has  come 
to  the  world  through  the  centuries  from  the  mere 
telling  of  the  story  of  this  woman's  trouble.  Other 
mothers  with  suffering  children  have  been  encouraged 
to  bring  their  burdens  to  Christ,  as  they  have  read 
of  this  mother  and  her  persistent  and  finally  availing 
plea.  Other  pleaders  at  the  throne  of  grace,  dis- 
couraged for  a  time,  as  they  have  seen  this  prayer 
prevail  at  length,  have  taken  fresh  hope.  No  one  can 
tell  what  a  history  of  blessing  this  one  fragment  of 
the  gospel  has  left  among  men.  Yet  this  story  never 
would  have  been  written  but  for  the  pitiful  suffering 
of  a  little  girl.  We  do  not  know  what  blessing  may 
go  out  into  the  world  from  the  anguish  in  our  home 
which  is  so  hard  for  us  to  endure.  Every  human 
pain  or  sorrow  is  intended  to  make  this  world  a  little 
gentler,  sweeter,  warmer-hearted.  We  should  never 
forget  that  the  gospel,  which,  these  nineteen  centuries, 
has  been  changing  the  earth  from  coldness,  harshness, 
cruelty,  and  barbarism,  into  love,  gentleness,  humane 
feeling,  and  brotherly  kindness,  is  the  story  of  a  sorrow 
— the  sorrow  of  Calvary.  We  ought  to  be  willing  to 
endure  pain  to  make  the  world  more  heaven-like. 

We  are  not  told  anything  about  this  woman,  save 
that  she  was  a  woman  with  a  great  burden  of  sorrow. 
She  was  a  broken-hearted  mother,  with  a  demoniac 
child.  But  that  is  enough  for  us  to  know.  Her 
sorrow  makes  her  kin  to  us  all.  It  was  not  her  own 
trouble,  either.  She  was  not  sick.  Yet  hear  her  cry : 


THE  SILENT  CHRIST.  37 

"  Lord,  help  me."  She  represented  a  great  class  of 
burdened  and  crushed  people  who  are  bowed  down 
under  the  maladies  or  the  sins  of  others.  Especially 
was  she  the  type  of  many  human  mothers  whose 
hearts  are  broken  by  the  sufferings  or  by  the  evil 
ways  of  their  children.  You  never  enter  a  sick-room 
where  a  child  lies  in  pain,  and  the  mother  keeps 
watch,  but  the  mother  is  suffering  more  than  the 
child.  There  are  many  parents  prematurely  stooped 
and  old,  by  reason  of  the  burdens  they  are  bearing 
for  or  on  account  of  their  children. 

This  mother's  persistence  in  pressing  her  plea  was 
very  remarkable.  When  she  came  first,  Jesus  "  an- 
swered her  not  a  word."  He  stood  silent  before  her 
piteous  appealing.  But  she  would  not  be  discouraged, 
and  as  He  walked  on  and  talked  with  His  disciples, 
she  continued  following,  and  beseeching  Him  to  have 
mercy  on  her.  When  the  silence  was  broken  at 
length,  it  was  in  words  which  seemed  strangely  harsh 
and  insulting,  coming  from  the  lips  of  the  Christ. 
Yet  even  the  offensive  words  did  not  chill  the  ardour 
of  her  earnestness.  Indeed,  she  caught  at  the  very 
offensiveness,  seeing  hope  in  them.  She  was  content 
to  be  a  dog  and  to  take  a  dog's  portion.  Even  the 
crumbs  from  that  table  would  abundantly  satisfy 
her. 

The  woman's  prayer  and  its  final  answer  tell  us 
that  we  may  bring  to  Christ  in  our  love  and  faith 
those  who  cannot  come  to  Him  themselves.  Many  of 


38  THE  SILENT  CHRIST. 

Christ's  healings  were  in  answer  to  the  prayers  of 
friends.  It  is  not  enough  for  us  to  pray  for  ourselves. 
That  love  is  not  doing  its  full  duty  which  does  not 
carry  its  dear  ones  to  God  in  supplication. 

Then  this  mother  teaches  us  how  to  pray — not 
timidly,  faintly,  and  feebly,  but  with  all  the  earnest- 
ness of  passionate  love,  strengthened  by  overcoming 
faith.  When  we  are  at  Christ's  feet  with  our  burden, 
we  are  before  One  who  can  help  us  whatever  our 
need.  We  should  determine  to  stay  there  till  we 
get  our  plea.  This  mother's  supplication  was  as 
different  from  many  of  our  tame,  mildly-uttered 
requests  which  we  call  prayers,  as  the  storm's  wild 
sweep  is  from  evening's  soft  zephyr.  Silence  did 
not  discourage  her.  Refusal  did  not  check  her 
pleadings.  Reproach  had  no  power  to  drive  her 
away.  Such  faith  overcomes  every  obstacle  and 
wins  its  way  to  sublimest  victory. 

Christ's  treatment  of  this  mother  is  one  of  the 
strangest  things  in  the  Bible.  It  seems  at  first 
scarcely  consistent  with  our  conception  of  Christ's 
character.  On  nearly  all  other  occasions  He  an- 
swered at  once,  but  now,  when  the  woman  came  to 
Him  with  her  broken-hearted  supplication,  He  an- 
swered not  a  word.  When  she  continued  crying, 
His  only  reply  was  a  refusal,  on  the  ground  that 
His  mission  was  not  to  any  but  His  own  people. 
Then,  when  she  still  persisted  and  cast  herself  at  His 
feet,  looking  up  appealingly  to  Him  and  pleading 


THE  SILENT  CHRIST.  89 

still  for  mercy,  what  was  His  reply  ?  Not  a  kindly 
"  no,"  such  as  He  might  have  spoken,  to  make  the 
pain  of  refusal  as  little  as  possible,  but  words  which 
some  haughty  Pharisee  might  have  used,  calling  the 
sorrowing  woman  a  Gentile  dog. 

How  can  this  be  explained  ?  If  we  were  to  hear 
that  some  good,  generous,  kindly  Christian  man, 
whom  we  know,  had  treated  a  poor  distressed 
woman  in  this  way,  either  we  would  not  believe  it, 
or  we  would  say  that  the  man  must  have  been 
mentally  disturbed — that  he  was  not  himself  that 
day,  because  of  some  secret  trouble  of  his  own. 
Men  do  such  things — they  do  treat  the  poor  and 
distressed  coldly,  rudely,  even  in  these  late  Christian 
days — but  not  men  like  Jesus.  When  we  think  of 
the  character  of  Jesus — so  gracious,  so  unselfish,  so 
compassionate,  and  that  He  was  always  so  ready  to 
help  even  outcasts — this  narrative  perplexes  us  be- 
yond measure. 

We  may  as  well  admit,  too,  that  there  are  diffi- 
culties, not  unlike  those  we  meet  here,  in  many  of 
God's  providences  in  our  own  days.  We  believe 
in  God's  fatherhood,  in  His  love  and  grace,  in  His 
tender  thought  and  care  of  His  children.  Yet  the 
world  is  full  of  sorrows.  Distressed  mothers  yet 
cry  to  heaven  for  relief  in  their  troubles,  and  He 
who  sits  on  the  throne  is  silent  to  them.  Prayers 
seem  to  go  long  unanswered,  and  suppliants  appear 
to  get  no  pity  from  Him  whom  we  believe  to  bo  full 


40  THE  SILENT  CHRIST. 

of  compassion.  These  are  painful  perplexities  with 
many  good  people. 

If  we  can  find  an  explanation  for  Christ's  treat- 
ment of  this  heathen  mother,  it  will  help  us  to 
understand  many  of  the  other  difficulties  in  God's 
ways  with  His  people.  It  is  very  clear  that  what 
seemed  unkindness  was  not  unkindness.  While 
Jesus  was  silent  to  her  pleading  and  apparently 
indifferent,  He  was  not  really  indifferent.  He  did 
hear  her,  and  His  heart  was  interested  in  Her 
sorrow.  When  He  seemed  to  spurn  her,  there  was 
not  in  His  heart  toward  her  the  slightest  feeling  of 
real  contempt  or  spurning.  He  did  not  despise  her. 
His  thought  toward  her  did  not  change  at  last,  when 
He  yielded  to  her  importunity  and  healed  her  child. 
His  compassion  was  moved  at  her  first  approach 
to  Him.  He  intended  all  the  while  to  grant  her 
request.  His  treatment  of  her  was  only  seemingly 
unkind.  Suppose  she  had  given  up  and  turned 
away,  when  Jesus  seemed  to  be  so  indifferent  to  her, 
what  would  she  have  lost  ?  Her  faith  faltered  not, 
and  at  last  she  got  the  blessing. 

It  is  evident,  too,  that  there  was  a  meaning  of 
wise  love  in  Christ's  apparently  harsh  and  severe 
treatment  of  this  woman.  It  was  the  very  treatment 
her  faith  needed.  Of  this  we  may  be  sure  as  we 
read  the  story  through  to  its  close.  We  are  safe  in 
saying  that  gentle  kindness  from  the  first  would  not 
have  brought  out  such  a  noble  faith  in  the  end  as  did 


THE  SILENT  CHRIST.  41 

the  apparent  harshness.  We  are  apt  to  forget  that 
the  aim  of  God  with  us  is  not  to  flood  us  all  the 
time  with  tenderness,  not  to  keep  our  path  strewn 
always  with  flowers,  not  to  give  us  everything  we 
want,  not  to  save  us  from  all  manner  of  suffering. 
God's  aim  with  us  is  to  make  something  of  us,  to 
build  up  in  us  strong  and  noble  character,  to  bring 
out  in  us  qualities  of  grace  and  beauty.  To  do  this 
He  must  of ttimes  deny  us  what  we  ask  for,  and  must 
seem  indifferent  to  our  cries. 

There  are  prevalent  sentimental  ideas  of  God 
which  are  dishonouring  to  Him.  There  are  those 
who  imagine  that  love  in  God  means  tenderness  that 
cannot  cause  pain,  nor  look  a  moment  on  suffering 
without  relieving  it ;  that  must  instantly  hear  and 
answer  every  cry  for  the  removal  of  trouble.  Not 
such  a  God  is  the  God  of  the  Bible.  When  suffering 
is  the  best  thing  for  us,  He  is  not  too  sympathetic 
to  let  us  suffer  till  the  work  of  suffering  is  accom- 
plished in  us.  He  is  not  too  kind  to  be  silent  to  our 
prayers  when  it  is  better  He  should  be  silent  for  a 
time  to  allow  faith  to  grow  strong,  self-confidence  to 
be  swept  away,  and  the  evil  in  us  to  be  burned  out 
in  the  furnace  of  pain. 

Here,  in  this  very  story,  we  have  an  example  of 
human  compassion  that  seems  more  tender  than 
Christ's  The  disciples  begged  the  Master  to  listen 
to  the  woman's  cries.  They  could  not  bear  the 
anguish  of  her  sorrow.  It  was  too  much  for  their 


42  THE  SILENT  CHRIST. 

nerves.  But  Jesus  remained  unmoved.  No  one 
will  say  that  these  rough  fishermen  were  really  more 
gentle-hearted  than  Jesus ;  but  they  were  less  wise 
in  their  love  than  He  was.  They  were  not  strong 
enough  to  wait  till  the  right  time  for  helping.  They 
would  have  helped  at  once,  and  thus  would  have 
marred  the  work  the  Master  was  doing  in  the 
woman's  soul. 

This  is  a  danger  with  all  of  us.  Our  tenderness 
lacks  strength.  We  cannot  see  people  suffer,  and  so  we 
hasten  to  give  relief  before  the  ministry  of  suffering 
is  accomplished.  We  think  of  our  mission  to  men 
as  being  only  to  make  life  easier  for  them.  We  are 
continually  lifting  away  burdens  which  it  were 
better  to  have  left  resting  longer  on  our  friend's 
shoulder.  We  are  eager  to  make  life  easy  for  our 
children  when  it  were  better  if  it  had  been  left  hard. 
We  answer  prayers  too  soon  ofttimes,  not  asking 
if  it  were  better  for  the  suppliant  to  wait  longer 
before  receiving.  In  our  dealing  with  human  souls, 
we  break  down  when  we  hear  the  first  cries  of 
penitence,  hurrying  to  give  assurance  of  pardon, 
when  it  were  better  if  we  left  the  penitent  spirit 
longer  with  God  for  the  deepening  of  conviction  and 
of  the  sense  of  sin,  and  for  the  most  complete 
humbling  of  the  soul. 

We  must  learn  that  God  does  not  deal  with  us  in 
this  emotional  way.  He  is  not  too  tender  to  see  us 
suffer  if  more  suffering  is  needed  to  work  in  us  the 


THE  SILENT  CHRIST.  43 

discipline  that  will  make  us  like  Christ.  Here  we 
have  the  key  of  many  of  the  mysteries  of  Providence. 
Life  is  not  easy  for  us ;  it  is  not  meant  to  be  easy. 
Prayers  are  not  all  answered  the  moment  they  are 
offered.  Cries  for  the  relief  of  pain  do  not  always 
bring  instant  relief. 

Suppose  for  a  moment  that  God  did  give  us  every- 
thing we  ask,  and  did  remove  immediately  every 
little  pain,  trouble,  difficulty,  and  hardness  that  we 
seek  to  have  removed,  what  would  be  the  result  on 
us  ?  How  selfish  it  would  make  us !  We  should 
grow  wilful — not  thinking  of  God's  will,  but  only 
of  our  own.  We  should  become  weak,  unable  to 
endure  suffering,  to  bear  trial,  to  carry  burdens,  or  to 
struggle.  We  should  be  only  children  always,  and 
would  never  rise  into  manly  strength.  God's  over- 
kindness  to  us  would  pamper  in  us  all  the  worst 
elements  of  our  nature,  and  would  make  us  only  poor 
drivelling  creatures.  On  the  other  hand,  however, 
God's  wise  and  firm  treatment  of  us  teaches  us  the 
great  lessons  which  make  us  strong  with  the  strength 
of  Christ  Himself.  He  teaches  us  to  yield  our  own 
will  to  Him.  He  develops  in  us  patience,  faith,  love, 
hope,  and  peace.  He  trains  us  to  endure  hardness 
that  we  may  grow  heroic  and  self-reliant. 

It  is  evident  that  at  no  time  in  the  progress  of  this 
experience  did  Jesus  mean  to  refuse  this  woman's 
plea.  His  cold  silence  was  not  denial.  His  apparent 
was  not  rejection.  He  delayed  for  wise 


44  THE  SILENT  CHRIST. 

reasons.  His  treatment  of  the  woman  from  beginning 
to  end  was  for  the  training  of  her  faith.  He  answered 
not  a  word,  that  her  pleading  might  grow  stronger. 
At  the  last  He  commended  the  woman  as  He  com- 
mended few  other  people  in  all  His  ministry. 

It  is  well  for  us  to  make  careful  note  of  this — that 
in  all  God's  delays  when  we  pray,  His  aim  is  some 
good  in  us.  Perhaps  we  are  wilful,  asking  only  for 
our  own  way,  and  must  learn  to  say,  "  Thy  will  be 
done."  Perhaps  we  are  weak,  unable  to  bear  pain 
or  to  endure  adversity  or  loss,  and  we  must  be  trained 
and  disciplined  into  strength.  Perhaps  our  desires 
are  only  for  earthly  good,  not  for  heavenly,  and  we 
must  be  taught  the  transitory  character  of  all  worldly 
things  and  led  to  desire  things  which  are  eternal. 
Perhaps  we  are  impatient,  and  must  be  taught  to 
wait  for  God.  We  are  like  children  in  our  eager 
restlessness,  and  need  to  learn  self-restraint.  At 
least  we  may  always  know  that  silence  is  not 
refusal,  that  God  hears  and  cares,  and  that  when 
our  faith  has  learned  its  lessons  He  will  answer  in 
blessing. 

When  God  does  not  seem  to  answer,  He  is  drawing 
us  nearer  to  Him.  Ofttimes  our  unanswered  prayers 
mean  more  of  blessing  to  us  than  those  that  are 
answered.  The  lessons  set  for  us  in  them  are  harder, 
but  they  are  greater,  richer  lessons.  It  is  better  for 
us  to  learn  the  lesson  of  submission  and  trust  than 
it  is  to  get  some  new  sweet  joy  which  adds  to  our 


THE  SILENT  CHRIST.  45 

present  comfort.     Whether,  therefore,  He  speaks  or 
is  silent,  He  has  a  blessing  for  us. 

"  Unanswered  yet — the  prayer  your  lips  have  pleaded 

In  agony  of  heart  these  many  years  ? 
Does  faith  begin  to  fail,  is  hope  departing, 

And  think  you  all  in  vain  those  falling  tears  ? 
Say  not  the  Father  hath  not  heard  your  prayer ; 
You  shall  have  your  desire — sometime,  somewhere. 

"Unanswered  yet?    Nay,  do  not  say  ungranted  j 

Perhaps  your  part  is  not  yet  wholly  done. 
The  work  began  when  first  your  prayer  was  uttered, 

And  God  will  furnish  what  He  has  begun. 
If  you  will  keep  the  incense  burning  there, 
His  glory  you  shall  see — sometime,  somewhere. 

"  Unanswered  yet  ?    Faith  cannot  be  unanswered  ; 

Her  feet  were  firmly  planted  on  the  Rock  ; 
Amid  the  wildest  storms  she  stands  undaunted, 

Nor  quails  before  the  loudest  thunder-shock. 
She  knows  Omnipotence  has  heard  her  prayer, 
And  cries,  '  It  shall  be  done — sometime,  somewhere.'  " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

TEMPTED  LIKE   AS  WE   ARE. 

"  To  be  like  Him ;  to  keep 

Unspotted  from  the  world  ;  to  reap 
But  where  He  leads ;  to  think, 
To  dream,  to  hope  as  one  who  would  but  drink 

Of  purity,  and  grow 

More  like  the  Christ ;  to  go 

Through  time's  sweet  labyrinths  pure  and  brave  and  true ; 
To  stand  sin's  tests ;  to  dare,  to  do 

For  Him,  though  all  the  price 

Be  stained  in  dye  of  sacrifice — 

This  were  to  be 

Sustained  by  His  infinity, 

And  given 

A  foretaste  of  the  ecstasy  of  heaven." 

GEORGE  KLTNGLE. 

NO  human  soul  has  ever  escaped  temptation. 
There  have  been  fierce  and  terrific  assaults 
before  which  the  noblest  natures  have  quailed  and 
the  bravest,  strongest  hearts  have  trembled.  Earth's 
battlefields  are  not  all  marked  out  on  the  school-boy's 
maps.  The  stories  of  the  world's  great  battles  are 
not  all  told  in  our  histories.  It  was  just  after  His 
baptism  and  His  consecration  to  His  work  as  the 


TEMPTED  LIKE  AS  WE  ARE.  47 

Messiah  that  Jesus  went  to  His  temptation.  An  old 
writer  says:  "All  the  while  our  Saviour  stayed  in 
His  father's  shop  and  meddled  only  with  carpenter's 
chips,  the  devil  troubled  Him  not;  now  that  He  is 
to  enter  more  publicly  upon  His  mediatorship,  the 
tempter  pierceth  His  tender  soul  with  many  sorrows 
by  solicitation  to  sin." 

For  forty  days  Jesus  had  been  fasting.  "  If  thou 
be  the  Son  of  God,"  said  the  tempter,  "  command  that 
these  stones  be  made  bread."  There  is  no  harm  in 
eating  when  one  is  hungry.  There  would  seem  to 
have  been  nothing  wrong  in  Jesus  turning  a  few 
stones  into  loaves  of  bread.  "  Man  doth  not  live  by 
bread  alone,"  said  Jesus,  "but  by  every  word  of 
God."  It  is  a  great  deal  more  important  that  I  shall 
obey  God's  commandments  than  that  I  shall  get 
bread  to  eat.  My  duty  is  to  do  God's  will  first,  last, 
always ;  the  matter  of  bread  is  secondary. 

"  Throw  Thyself  down,"  said  the  tempter,  "  from 
yonder  lofty  pinnacle  into  the  crowded  street,  and 
let  God  keep  Thee  from  being  hurt.  He  has 
promised  to  give  His  angels  charge  over  Thee."  Why 
would  it  have  been  wrong  for  Jesus  to  do  this  ?  He 
said  it  would  have  been  tempting  God,  claiming  His 
promise  in  needless  danger.  When  you  rush  into 
peril  without  the  divine  bidding,  you  can  claim  no 
shelter,  no  protection.  You  are  tempting  God. 

Satan  then  gave  Jesus  a  vision  of  universal  power, 
all  lands  at  His  feet — Greece,  Rome,  the  great 


48  TEMPTED  LIKE  AS  WE  ARE. 

Orient,  the  broad  West.  "  All  this  is  yours  if  you 
will  worship  me."  Already  there  was  in  the  soul 
of  Jesus  another  vision  of  universal  power,  all  the 
world  His  kingdom ;  but  it  was  spiritual  power,  and 
the  way  to  it  led  by  a  cross.  The  tempter  suggested 
power  of  this  world,  with  pomp  and  splendour,  and 
the  cross  avoided.  But  think  of  the  price — "Fall 
down  and  worship  me." 

It  is  said  that  a  little  daughter  of  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne's  had  a  wonderful  faculty  for  inventing 
stories.  One  day  she  was  overheard  telling  her 
brother  about  a  very  naughty  child,  who  grew 
naughtier  and  naughtier  till  at  last  she  struck  God. 
As  we  read  the  story  of  these  temptations,  coming  to 
the  last  one,  in  which  the  tempter  asks  the  Son  of 
God  to  fall  down  and  worship  him,  is  it  not  the 
child's  fancy  realized — naughtier  and  naughtier  till 
at  last  he  struck  God  ? 

Why  was  Jesus  tempted  of  the  devil  ?  We  are 
told  that  He  was  led — Mark  says  driven — by  the 
Spirit  into  the  wilderness,  to  be  tempted  by  the 
devil.  It  was  not,  therefore,  an  accident;  it  was 
part  of  His  preparation.  He  came  from  Nazareth, 
after  thirty  years  of  quiet  life,  and  was  baptized, 
and  thus  set  apart  for  His  mission  of  redeeming  the 
world.  But  before  He  begins  His  work  He  must  be 
tried.  Adam  was  tried,  and  he  failed.  The  second 
Adam  must  be  tried  too,  to  prove  that  He  is  able  to 
save  men.  If  He  had  not  been  successful  in  His  con- 


TEMPTED  LIKE  AS  WE  ARE.  49 

flicts,  how  could  He  have  delivered  any  others  from 
the  tempter's  power  ? 

Long,  long  ago  (the  legend  runs),  in  a  far-distant 
land,  dwelt  a  giant,  Offero.  He  had  wonderful 
power.  He  had  a  strange  desire  to  serve  the 
mightiest  king  in  the  world.  He  found  one  who 
seemed  great,  and  entered  his  service.  Together 
with  his  king  he  fought  many  battles.  One  day  a 
minstrel  came  to  the  king's  court  and  sang,  and 
Offero  noticed  that  every  time  the  name  of  Satan 
was  mentioned  the  king  grew  pale  and  trembled, 
and  bent  his  knee  and  croased  himself.  "  Ah,"  said 
Offero,  "  he  who  is  to  be  my  master  must  quail  at 
nothing.  There  must  be  a  greater  king  than  thou — 
this  Satan  whom  thou  dost  dread.  I  leave  thy  ser- 
vice, and  I  will  journey  till  I  find  this  mightier 
monarch,  and  I  will  give  him  my  sword." 

So  he  wandered,  seeking  Satan  up  and  down  the 
mountain  steep,  far  across  the  trackless  desert, 
through  deep  forests,  resting  not  until  he  had  found 
the  arch-fiend.  Before  him  he  bowed,  crying, — 

"  I  lie  before  thee,  prostrate  in  the  very  dust ; 
May  my  right  hand  fail  if  ever  it  prove  recreant  to  its  trust." 

For  long  years  Offero  stayed  with  Satan.  Many 
were  the  battles  they  fought.  Offero  was  a  brave 
champion.  But  one  day,  near  an  ancient  city,  they 
paused  to  rest,  and  to  drink  from  a  wayside  fountain. 
Beside  the  fountain  stood  a  little  cross  with  a  figure 

(638)  4 


50  TEMPTED  LIKE  AS  WE  ARE. 

carved  upon  it.  Satan  shrank  back,  and  would  not 
drink.  He  began  to  tremble,  too,  before  the  cross. 
Offero  saw  it.  "  Ah,"  he  said, "  thou  tremblest.  Why 
is  it  ? "  Satan  answered,  "  On  this  cross  the  Saviour 
died — He,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  greater  than  all 
kings  besides,  crowned  now  with  glory.  It  is  He  I 
dread." 

"  Then  I  leave  thee,"  said  the  giant.  "  I  will  serve 
none  but  the  mightiest.  I  will  seek  this  mightier 
King  and  will  serve  Him." 

So  again  he  went  forth  and  wandered  far  and 
wide,  asking  everywhere  for  this  Saviour  who  on  the 
cross  had  died.  One  day  he  met  an  ancient  hermit, 
who  taught  him  the  gospel  story,  and  told  him  how 
to  find  the  Saviour.  Offero  was  filled  with  love  for 
the  Christ,  the  mightiest  of  all  kings,  and  longed  to 
do  brave  and  noble  things  for  this  new  master. 

"  Knowest  thou  a  deep,  wide  river,"  asked  the  her- 
mit, "rushing  down  between  dark  chasms?  Strong 
and  rapid  is  its  current,  and  many  shrink  to  cross  it. 
Thou  canst  aid  them,  mighty  giant.  Thou  canst 
lend  a  helping  hand,  guiding  them  through  the 
rushing  floods.  Thus  thou  canst  serve  the  Saviour." 

With  joy  in  his  heart,  Offero  went  and  crossed  the 
foaming  river,  built  a  simple  hut  of  branches,  and 
became  the  pilgrim's  guide.  He  strengthened  many 
fainting  souls.  He  saved  many  from  death.  Always, 
while  he  did  his  noble  deeds,  there  arose  before  his 
eyes  that  figure  on  the  cross — fair  and  saintly,  with 


TEMPTED  LIKE  AS  WE  ARE.  51 

deep  wounds  on  hands  and  feet*,  with  a  face  of 
wondrous  beauty,  wearing  a  smile  of  love  and  peace. 

One  night  the  great  giant  was  sleeping  in  his  hut, 
when  he  heard,  faintly  calling,  a  childish  voice, 
"  Offero,  good  Offero,  wake  at  once,  and  carry  me 
over  the  river."  It  was  a  wild  night.  The  floods 
ran  high  and  the  winds  were  fierce.  Through  the 
darkness  and  the  storm  still  wailed  the  child's  voice, 
"  Come  quickly,  Offero.  I  am  weary ;  bear  me  over 
the  river."  The  giant  hastened  to  answer  the  call. 
Through  a  rift  in  the  clouds  a  moonbeam  streamed 
down  upon  the  waters,  and  he  saw  a  child  struggling 
there  alone.  He  caught  the  little  one  in  his  arms 
and  bravely  set  out  to  carry  him  across  the  stream. 
But  at  every  step  the  child's  weight  increased,  until 
the  giant  felt  that  he  must  sink  under  his  load.  Yet 
he  struggled  on,  praying  for  strength,  and  safely 
reached  the  shore. 

"Whom  have  I  borne?"  he  murmured.  "It  is 
thy  Lord,"  answered  the  child.  "Long  hast  thou 
desired  to  see  Me.  Thou  thoughtest  to  help  one  of 
My  little  ones,  through  love  for  Me,  and  thou  hast 
borne  Me,  thy  Lord,  across  the  waters.  He  who  has 
carried  the  Saviour  must  henceforth  be  called  Christ- 
Offero." 

It  is  but  a  legend,  and  yet  its  teaching  is  beautiful. 
We  want  for  our  soul's  Master  one  who  fears  no 
enemy,  who  trembles  and  quails  before  no  power, 
who  is  matchless  in  His  strength.  We  want  one  for 


52  TEMFFED  LIKE  AS  WE  ARE. 

our  Saviour  who  never  can  be  overcome.  We  are 
immortal.  Not  for  to-day  only,  but  through  eternal 
years,  we  shall  need  a  friendship  that  is  not  tender 
only,  but  also  strong  and  secure.  No  earthly  power 
meets  this  condition.  The  sweetest  human  love  is 
but  trembling  weakness  before  the  world's  mighty 
forces.  We  cannot  worship  one  who  fears  any  foe. 
We  cannot  trust  ourselves  absolutely  and  for  ever 
in  the  hands  of  one  who  is  not  stronger  than  the 
strongest. 

Here,  emerging  from  the  wilderness,  with  the 
light  of  victory  in  His  face,  comes  the  Lord  Christ. 
He  has  met  the  very  concentration  of  all  the  world's 
evil,  and  has  vanquished  it.  We  need  never  be 
afraid  to  trust  Him.  There  are  no  chains  He  cannot 
break.  He  is  a  tried  Saviour.  In  all  our  struggles 
and  temptations  we  may  turn  to  Him  for  help  and 
deliverance. 

Jesus  was  tempted,  too,  that  He  might  understand 
our  experiences  of  temptation.  "  It  behoved  him  in 
all  things  to  be  made  like  unto  his  brethren,  that 
he  might  be  a  merciful  and  faithful  high  priest. 
For  in  that  he  himself  hath  suffered  being  tempted, 
he  is  able  to  succour  them  that  are  tempted."  These 
words  assure  us  that  the  temptations  of  Christ  were 
not  mere  empty  forms,  mere  simulacra  of  tempta- 
tions, but  intense  realities.  He  suffered  being 
tempted.  It  cost  Him  anguish  to  resist.  He  re- 
sisted unto  blood. 


TEMPTED  LIKE  AS  WE  ARE.  53 

Power  is  not  enough  in  Him  whom  your  soul  craves 
to  have  for  Saviour,  Helper,  Friend.  Power  alone  is 
cold.  He  may  be  the  All-conqueror.  It  may  be  that 
He  has  vanquished  every  energy  of  evil  and  bound 
the  strong  one  in  his  own  house.  He  may  be 
resistless  in  His  might,  and  you  may  be  secure  in 
the  shelter  of  His  strength.  But  your  heart  craves 
tenderness.  You  must  have  sympathy.  The  one 
to  whom  you  will  turn  as  your  Lord  and  Master 
must  be  able  to  enter  into  all  the  experiences  of 
your  life.  This,  too,  we  have  in  Jesus  Christ.  He 
is  not  only  God,  with  all  power;  He  is  also  man, 
with  all  human  feelings,  affections,  emotions,  sym- 
pathies. Having  been  tempted  in  all  points  like 
as  we  are,  He  can  be  touched  with  the  feeling  of 
our  infirmities. 

There  is  a  picture  which  represents  an  angel 
standing  by  the  empty  cross  of  our  Saviour.  It 
is  in  the  evening,  after  the  crucifixion.  The  body 
has  been  taken  down  and  laid  to  rest  in  the  grave. 
The  crowd  has  dispersed.  Desolation  and  loneliness 
reign  about  the  place.  There  stands  the  angel, 
touching  with  his  fingers  the  sharp  points  of  the 
thorns  in  the  crown  which  Jesus  had  worn.  The 
artist's  thought  is  that  the  angel  looked  with  wonder 
and  awe  on  the  sufferings  of  Christ.  He  could  not 
understand  them,  for  angels  have  never  suffered, 
and  hence  there  is  nothing  in  the  angel  nature  or 
experience  to  interpret  suffering.  He  is  trying  to 


54  TEMPTED  LIKE  AS  WE  ABE. 

make  out  what  pain  is,  and  he  cannot  understand 
the  mystery. 

There  are  people  among  our  friends  who  come  and 
stand  beside  us  in  our  sorrow  or  suffering,  and  yet 
understand  nothing  of  what  we  are  experiencing. 
Their  hearts  are  tender,  and  their  love  is  deep  and 
strong ;  but  they  have  never  suffered,  and  therefore 
there  is  nothing  in  them  to  interpret  to  them  what 
is  going  on  in  us.  Then  there  comes  another  friend, 
and  in  his  face  and  eye  we  catch  at  once  the  reveal- 
ing of  sympathy.  He  understands  what  is  passing 
in  our  soul.  He  enters  into  our  experience.  Every 
struggle  or  pain  in  our  heart  finds  an  answering 
chord  in  his.  He  has  suffered  himself,  and  his 
nature  has  thus  been  prepared  for  sympathy. 

Wonderful  is  this  power  of  sympathy.  Wonderful 
is  the  help  that  passes  from  the  sympathetic  heart 
to  other  lives.  It  is  this  which  gives  to  certain 
great  preachers  their  power  to  help  others  by  their 
words;  those  who  listen  to  them  hear  the  heart- 
beat in  their  sermons,  and  feel  instinctively  that  they 
understand  what  they  are  saying,  because  they  have 
experienced  it.  It  is  this  that  makes  certain  books 
BO  welcome  to  the  weary,  the  sorrowing,  and  the 
struggling;  their  pages  breathe  sympathy  in  every 
line.  You  can  understand  in  others  only  what  you 
have  learned  for  yourself  in  your  own  living.  If 
you  have  not  suffered  being  tempted,  there  is  nothing 
in  you  to  interpret  to  your  heart  what  I  am  suffer- 


TEMPTED  LIKE  AS  WE  ARE.  55 

ing  while  passing  through  my  struggles  and  conflicts. 
But  if  you  have  fought  the  battles  yourself,  you 
understand  what  is  going  on  in  me  when  I  am  fight- 
ing them. 

These  are  hints  of  what  Christ  brought  from  the 
wilderness  in  the  way  of  preparation  for  His  great 
work  of  priestly  help.  Nor  are  we  to  suppose  that 
it  was  only  in  the  wilderness  that  He  learned  life's 
lessons.  All  His  years  were  filled  with  human  ex- 
periences— childhood's,  young  manhood's,  the  poor 
man's,  the  working-man's;  the  experiences  of  in- 
gratitude, of  weak  friendship,  of  false  friendship,  of 
unkind  treatment,  of  rejection,  of  bitter  sorrow,  of 
death,  of  lying  in  the  grave.  So  He  stands  to-day  in 
the  midst  of  the  world  of  struggling  humanity ;  and 
there  is  nothing  in  any  heart's  cry  that  He  does  not 
understand.  It  matters  not  what  your  peculiar  ex- 
perience may  be,  in  Him  your  soul  finds  the  answer- 
ing chord. 

It  is  this  that  makes  Jesus  Christ  such  a  real 
friend  to  those  who  come  to  Him.  They  are  sure 
always  of  perfect  sympathy.  He  knows  how  hard 
it  is  for  us  to  be  good,  true,  and  patient,  for  He  has 
passed  through  life  before  us.  He  knows  how  the 
world  tempts  the  young  man  who  is  ambitious  to 
succeed.  He  knows  how  the  temptation  to  be  dis- 
honest tries  the  soul  of  the  man  who  is  hungry.  He 
knows  all  the  temptations  that  come  to  us,  and  looks 
upon  us  in  loving  sympathy  as  we  endure  them.  Men 


56  TEMPTED  LIKE  AS  WE  ABE. 

seem  cold  and  indifferent  as  they  hurry  along  in  their 
diverse  ways,  casting  no  thought  upon  us  in  our  heart- 
hunger,  in  our  longing,  in  our  need ;  but  there  is  One 
who  is  never  indifferent.  He  hears  the  plash  of  every 
tear  that  falls  in  secret.  His  heart  is  thrilled  with 
every  feeling  of  pain  or  pleasure,  of  hope  or  fear,  of 
joy  or  sorrow,  that  sweeps  through  our  heart. 

Yet  sympathy  is  not  all  of  the  blessing.  There 
are  those  who  sympathize  but  give  no  help.  Their 
feeling  is  only  a  feeble  echo  of  ours.  They  sit  down 
beside  us  in  our  sorrow,  and  their  hearts  beat  with 
ours,  but  there  is  no  uplift  in  their  tenderness. 
They  put  no  new  strength  into  our  heart,  no  new 
courage  or  cheer.  But  Christ  sympathizes  and  then 
helps.  He  has  learned  life's  ways,  and  He  guides  us 
in  them.  He  carried  the  world's  sorrows,  and  when 
we  are  in  sorrow  He  can  give  us  true  comfort.  He 
knows  what  comes  out  of  sorrow  sweetly  borne,  and 
He  can  strengthen  us  to  endure. 

One  of  the  beautiful  legends  of  Brittany  tells  of  a 
town  called  Is,  which  long  since  was  swallowed  up 
by  the  sea.  The  fishermen  relate  strange  things  of 
this  legendary  city.  They  say  that  sometimes  the 
tops  of  the  church -spires  may  be  seen  in  the  hollow 
of  the  waves,  when  the  storms  rage  wildly,  and  that 
during  a  calm  the  music  of  the  buried  bells  is  heard 
ringing  out  in  sweetest  notes. 

It  is  only  a  legend.  But  in  the  world's  great  sea 
there  are  countless  lives  that  have  been  buried — 


TEMPTED  LIKE  AS  WE  ARE.  57 

some  in  sin's  floods,  some  in  sorrow's  depths.  As  we 
listen,  we  hear  the  bells  ringing  down  in  the  dark 
waters.  Some  ring  plaintively — the  cry  of  pain, 
suffering,  and  despair.  Some  ring  yearningly — the 
longings,  desires,  and  aspirations  of  human  souls  for 
a  better  life. 

There  is  One  who  hears  all  this  music,  all  these 
notes  of  pain  and  longing.  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
hears  every  human  heart's  cry,  whatever  its  tone. 
It  is  but  little  that  the  best  human  love  can  do ;  but 
here  is  One  who  knows  all,  who  loves  better  than 
He  knows,  who  is  able  to  help  and  to  save  unto  the 
uttermost.  Who  would  not  take  this  all-conquering, 
all -sympathizing,  all-helping  Christ  into  his  life  as 
Saviour,  Master,  and  Friend  ? 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  GREATEST  LOVE. 

"  Long,  long  centuries 
Agone,  One  walked  the  earth,  His  life 
A  seeming  failure ; 
Dying,  He  gave  the  world  a  gift 

That  will  outlast  eternities." 

LOVE  is  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world.  St. 
Paul  tells  us  this  in  his  immortal  chapter 
in  which  he  sings  love's  praises.  It  is  greatest 
in  its  endurance.  Other  things  fail;  love  never 
fails.  Prophecies  have  their  place,  but  they  are  like 
blossoms  which  fade  and  fall  off  when  the  fruit 
comes.  Knowledge,  too,  is  great;  but  knowledge 
becomes  old,  effete,  outgrown,  and  is  for  ever  left 
behind  as  we  go  on  to  new  knowledge.  But  love 
abides. 

A  writer  in  a  little  poem  tells  the  story  of  two 
lovers.  First,  they  sit  by  a  moss-grown  spring, 
leaning  soft  cheeks  together.  Next,  we  see  a  wedded 
pair,  stepping  from  the  portal  amid  sweet  bell-notes 
and  the  fragrance  of  flowers.  Later,  two  faces  bend 
over  a  cradle  watching  a  life  that  love  has  sent. 


THE  GREATEST  LOVE.  59 

Further  on,  we  see  the  same  two,  sitting  by  the 
evening  fire  whose  red  light  falls  about  their  knees, 
with  a  duster  of  little  heads  around  them.  Once 
more  we  see  them :  the  fire  burns  on  the  hearth, 
and  they  sit  there  as  before ;  but  all  the  heads  by 
slow  degrees  have  gone,  leaving  that  lonely  pair — 
oh,  vanished  past!  But  the  same  sweet  love  that 
drew  them  close  to  each  other  by  the  moss-grown 
spring,  so  long  ago,  still  binds  them  together. 

"  The  red  light  shone  upon  the  floor, 

And  made  the  space  between  them  wide ; 
They  drew  their  chairs  up  side  by  side. 
Their  pale  cheeks  joined,  and  said,  '  Once  more  I 
O  memories ! 
O  past  that  is!" 

"Love  never  faileth."  It  lives  on  amid  all  fad- 
ings and  vanishings  and  all  changes.  Love  is  life. 
Loving  is  living.  Not  to  love  is  not  to  live.  When 
love  dies,  there  is  nothing  left  worth  while.  A  poet 
writes, — 

"  The  night  has  a  thousand  eyes, 

And  the  day  but  one ; 
Yet  the  light  of  the  bright  world  dies 

With  the  dying  sun. 
The  mind  has  a  thousand  eyes, 

And  the  heart  but  one  ; 
Yet  the  light  of  a  whole  life  dies 

When  love  is  done." 

The  works  that  will  live  longest  are  the  works 
that  love  achieves.  Leave  love  out,  and  all  you  do 
without  it  is  sordid.  Let  love  die  in  your  heart, 


60  THE  GREATEST  LOVE. 

and  you  may  as  well  be  dead.  Love  is  life's  light 
and  glory.  There  are  great  human  loves.  Great  is 
the  patriot's  love  for  his  country.  Some  of  the 
world's  noblest  heroisms  have  been  inspired  by  love 
for  native  land.  Great  is  parental  love,  whose  holy 
devotion  seems  likest  God's  of  all  human  affections. 
There  are  tender  stories  of  the  love  of  brothers  and 
sisters,  of  friend  and  friend,  of  lover  and  beloved. 
Volumes  could  be  written  telling  of  the  deeds  of 
love.  But  there  is  a  love  greater  than  any,  than 
all  of  these  together.  Human  loves  are  but  little 
fragments  of  the  divine  love  dropped  down  from 
heaven. 

Some  scientist,  trying  to  account  for  vegetable 
life  on  this  planet,  suggests  the  theory  that  when 
the  globe  was  ready  for  it,  with  mellow,  rich,  and 
fertile  soil  on  its  plains,  but  no  life  yet,  a  fragment 
of  a  meteor  from  some  other  world,  where  there 
was  life,  fell  to  the  earth,  bearing  on  it  seeds  or 
roots,  which  grew,  thus  starting  on  the  globe  the 
life  of  another  world.  This  is  only  a  theory,  but  it 
illustrates  the  origin  of  love  in  this  world.  Human 
affection  is  a  spark  of  the  divine  fire  of  love  dropped 
out  of  the  heart  of  God.  All  love  is  of  God.  The 
love  of  father,  of  mother,  of  brother,  of  sister,  of 
lover,  of  friend,  of  patriot,  of  little  child — all  has 
come  from  God. 

All  the  light  in  this  world  is  from  the  sun. 
Wherever  you  find  a  beam  shining  on  open  field  or 


THE  GREATEST  LOVE.  61 

in  gloomy  dungeon,  it  is  from  the  one  sun.  Wher- 
ever you  find  a  little  flower  blooming  in  conserva- 
tory or  garden,  in  the  depth  of  the  forest  or  on 
bare  mountain  crag,  the  sun  painted  it.  So  wher- 
ever you  find  love  in  a  human  heart,  in  a  home  of 
beauty  or  in  a  hovel,  in  little  child  or  old  man,  in 
saintly  Christian  or  in  breast  of  savage,  it  is  from 
God.  The  heart  of  God  is  the  fountain  of  all 
pure  affection. 

"  God  hides  Himself  within  the  love 

Of  those  whom  we  love  best ; 
The  smiles  and  tones  that  make  our  homes 
Are  shrines  by  Him  possessed." 

Christ  is  called  the  Word.  A  word  reveals  the 
thought,  the  feeling,  the  desire,  that  is  in  the  heart. 
Jesus  Christ  revealed  what  was  in  the  heart  of  God. 
God  is  love.  Christ  is  the  love  of  God  brought 
down  to  the  earth,  so  that  we  can  see  it  and  under- 
stand something  of  its  wonderful  character. 

The  love  of  Christ  "  passe th  knowledge."  This 
does  not  mean  that  we  can  know  nothing  of  it.  It 
means  that  we  can  never  fully  know  it.  We  can 
never  understand  all  its  wonderful  meaning.  Every- 
thing about  God  passeth  knowledge.  Augustine 
was  trying  to  comprehend  the  Trinity,  to  solve  the 
mystery  of  three  in  one  and  one  in  three.  One 
night  he  dreamed  that  he  stood  beside  the  sea  and 
saw  a  child  with  a  shell  dipping  up  water  from  the 


62  THE  GREATEST  LOVE. 

great  ocean,  and  emptying  it  into  a  tiny  hollow 
scooped  out  in  the  sand.  When  asked  what  he  was 
doing,  the  child  replied  that  he  was  putting  the 
sea  into  his  little  lake.  The  great  man  smiled  at 
the  child's  folly.  "  But  it  is  no  more  foolish,"  said 
the  child,  "  than  what  you  are  trying  to  do — to 
measure  in  your  finite  human  mind  the  infinite  truth 
of  the  divine  Trinity."  At  the  best  we  can  under- 
stand only  a  little  of  the  love  of  God  revealed  in 
Christ.  But  we  should  seek  to  comprehend  all  we 
can  of  it. 

St.  Paul  speaks  of  the  breadth,  the  length,  the 
depth,  and  height  of  the  love  of  Christ  In  its 
breadth  it  reaches  out  and  takes  in  all  the  race. 
There  is  not  a  tiny  grass  blade,  nor  a  flower,  grow- 
ing in  any  nook  or  corner  which  can  say,  "  The  sun 
does  not  shine  for  me ;  the  clouds  do  not  drop 
their  rain  for  me."  So  in  no  dreary  spot  of  earth 
is  there  a  man,  woman,  or  child  who  can  say,  "  The 
love  of  Christ  is  not  for  me." 

But  while  universal,  it  is  not  merely  a  love  for 
the  race  as  such,  but  is  individual.  There  are  men 
who  have  a  sort  of  benevolent  love  for  certain 
classes  of  unfortunate  people,  and  yet  have  no  care 
for  any  individuals  of  those  classes.  Their  love  is 
only  a  sentiment.  But  this  is  not  the  way  Christ 
loves.  He  looks  down  with  compassion  upon  the 
darkened  masses  in  heathen  lands,  but  has  a  distinct 
love  for  each  individual.  It  is  said  that  He  calleth 


THE  GREATEST  LOVE.  63 

all  the  stars  by  their  names.  "  Yes,"  you  say,  "  but 
stars  are  so  large  that  it  is  not  strange  He  knows 
all  their  names.  I  am  but  a  tiny  speck  on  one  of 
God's  stars.  How  can  He  have  a  distinct  love  for 
such  a  little  one  among  so  many  millions  of  people  ?" 
Well,  you  are  greater  than  any  star  in  all  the 
heavens :  for  the  stars  will  some  day  burn  out  and 
cease  to  be;  but  you  are  an  immortal  soul — you 
wear  God's  image. 

Then  stars  are  only  things,  while  you  are  God's 
child.  Does  a  mother  love  her  children  only  as  a 
family  ?  Does  not  each  child  have  a  distinct  place 
in  her  thought  and  affection  ?  God  loves  His  chil- 
dren in  the  same  way.  "  But  there  are  so  many  of 
them,"  you  say.  "  How  can  He  love  hundreds  of 
millions  as  individuals  ?"  God  Himself  is  so  great 
that  it  is  no  harder  for  Him  to  carry  hundreds  of 
millions  in  His  affection  than  it  is  for  a  human 
mother  to  love  her  five  or  six  children.  Every 
child  has  all  a  mother's  love.  She  does  not  love 
the  first  one  less  when  the  second  one  comes.  The 
love  of  her  heart  is  not  divided  into  fractions  and 
fragments  by  the  number  of  her  children.  Each 
one  has  all  the  mother's  love.  So  each  human 
individual  has  all  of  God's  deep,  eternal  love. 

If  this  were  only  understood,  however  imperfectly, 
it  would  change  much  of  the  world's  darkness  to 
light.  There  are  some  who  think  no  one  cares  for 
them.  This  feeling  is  very  sad. 


64  THE  GREATEST  LOVE. 

"  The  lonely  heart  that  knows  not  love's 
Soft  power  or  friendship's  ties, 
Is  like  yon  withering  flower  that  bows 
Its  gentle  head,  touched  to  the  quick, 
For  that  the  genial  sun  hath  hid  his  light, 
And  sighing  dies." 

It  is  very  sad  to  live  unloved.  There  are  few 
whose  fate  this  is.  Even  for  the  loneliest  there  is 
some  heart  that  cares.  But  if  there  were  no  human 
love  left  on  the  earth,  God  loves  every  one ;  and  His 
is  real  love,  too,  tenderer  than  a  mother's,  deeper, 
truer,  stronger. 

Or  we  may  think  of  the  length  of  the  love  of 
Christ.  We  may  think  of  Him  in  heaven,  and  His 
love  streams  down  to  earth  and  touches  us.  It  is 
more  than  ninety  millions  of  miles  to  the  sun,  and 
yet  his  beams  come  through  all  that  vast  reach  of 
space  and  warm  the  roots  of  the  grasses  into  life  on 
the  spring  days,  and  kiss  the  flowers  into  beauty 
and  fragrance.  The  love  of  Christ  is  as  long  as 
from  God's  throne  to  earth's  lowliest  places. 

Another  suggestion  of  the  length  of  the  love  of 
Christ  comes  from  the  words  which  tell  us  of  its 
duration.  "I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlasting 
love."  "The  mountains  shall  depart,  and  the  hills 
be  removed ;  but  my  kindness  shall  not  depart  from 
thee."  "  I  am  persuaded,  that  neither  death,  nor  life 

nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come shall 

be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God,  which 
is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord."  When  this  love  of 


THE  GREATEST  LOVE.  65 

Christ  clasps  a  human  life,  its  clasp  is  for  eternal 
years. 

Or  we  may  think  again  of  the  length  of  the  love 
of  Christ  in  its  wonderful  forgiveness,  its  infinite 
patience,  its  mercy  that  endureth  for  ever.  Human 
mercy  is  usually  very  short.  We  ask,  "  How  often 
shall  I  forgive  ?  Seven  times  ? "  We  think  seven 
times  a  wonderful  stretch  of  forgiving.  We  say  that 
such  and  such  wrongs  or  hurts  done  to  us  are  un- 
pardonable. We  go  a  little  farther,  perhaps,  and 
say,  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  doing  a  very  saintly 
thing,  "  I  will  forgive,  but  I  cannot  forget."  So  we 
carry  grudges  against  our  brother,  and  keep  our  hurt 
feelings,  and  refuse  to  forgive  those  who  have  injured 
us,  and  yet  call  ourselves  Christlike.  If  we  could 
get  a  vision  of  the  love  of  Christ  in  its  forgiveness, 
patience,  and  long-suffering,  it  would  shame  our  poor, 
pitiful  charity.  His  love  never  wearies  of  our  sin- 
ning. He  forgives  not  seven  times  only,  but  seventy 
times  seven  times.  He  carries  no  grudges.  He 
forgets,  remembers  no  more  for  ever,  our  sins  against 
Him,  when  once  we  repent  and  He  has  forgiven  us. 

There  are  chapters  in  your  life  story  which  you 
would  not  for  the  world  uncover  to  the  eye  of  even 
your  gentlest  friend.  "  He  would  not  love  me  any 
longer,"  you  say,  "  if  he  knew  these  things  in  me." 
There  are  things  in  your  inner  life — feelings,  emo- 
tions, desires,  imaginations,  jealousies,  envyings — 
which  you  would  not  dare  to  lay  open  to  your 

(53S)  5 


66  THE  GREATEST  LOVE. 

neighbour's  gaze.  "  He  would  loathe  rne,"  you  say. 
Yet  Christ  sees  all,  knows  all,  and  still  He  loves. 
He  loves  unto  the  uttermost.  His  mercy  endureth 
for  ever.  His  patience  never  fails. 

We  may  think  also  of  the  depth  of  Christ's  love. 
How  shall  we  fathom  it  ?  Human  love  is  often  a 
shallow  stream — so  shallow  that  it  cannot  cover  even 
the  minor  faults  and  the  trivial  mistakes  of  its  object. 
St.  Peter  says  that  charity  covers  a  multitude  of  sins. 
He  means  that  when  we  love  a  friend,  our  love  hides 
from  our  own  eyes  his  faults  and  blemishes,  and 
overlooks  his  mistakes  and  wrong-doings.  But  our 
charity  as  Christians — does  it  really  cover  from  our 
eyes  the  multitude  of  faults  and  sins  in  others,  even 
in  our  closest  friends  ?  Is  not  the  stream  too  often 
so  shallow  that  every  grain  of  sand,  every  little 
pebble,  and  every  weed  at  the  bottom  shows  ?  But 
the  love  of  Christ  is  so  deep  that  it  covers  every- 
thing, hides  completely  out  of  sight  the  multitude  of 
sins,  buries  them  for  ever  in  its  unfathomable  abysses. 

We  may  see  the  depth  of  the  love  of  Christ  also  in 
His  condescension.  Never  can  we  know  what  this 
condescension  meant  for  Christ.  We  can  talk  of  it, 
and  use  words  which  tell  of  it ;  but  what  it  involved 
of  sacrifice,  of  emptying  of  self,  of  pain  and  suffering, 
we  never  can  know.  A  German  artist,  painting  a 
picture  of  the  Man  of  Sorrows,  gave  up  in  despair 
when  he  came  to  the  face,  and  painted  Him  with  His 
face  turned  away,  thus  hiding  the  countenance  which 


THE  GREATEST  LOVE.  67 

he  felt  himself  unable  to  put  upon  the  canvas.  So 
it  must  always  be  with  the  reverent  friend  of]  Christ 
who  thinks  of  Christ's  sorrows.  His  love  passeth 
knowledge.  We  never  can  fathom  the  depth  of  His 
condescension. 

Looking  at  this  wonderful  manifestation,  who  can 
doubt  for  a  moment  the  love  of  God  for  him  ?  What 
proof  do  we  need  to  show  us  the  divine  love  that 
was  revealed  on  the  cross  ?  As  the  dawn  broke,  one 
morning,  over  the  great  desert,  Merwan  knelt  by  his 
tent  door  and  prayed.  In  the  caravan  was  one  who 
doubted  that  there  was  a  God  to  hear  or  answer 
prayer.  Coming  upon  Merwan  as  he  prayed,  this 
doubter  cried,  "  How  dost  thou  know  that  Allah  is  ?  " 
Swiftly  toward  the  east,  now  becoming  glorious  with 
bursting  light,  an  arm  Merwan  flung.  "  Dost  need  a 
torch  to  show  thee  the  dawn  ? "  Does  any  one  ask 
for  proof  that  God  is,  or  that  God  loves  ?  Look  at 
the  cross  where  the  Son  of  God  is  dying  for  the 
world's  redemption.  "Dost  need  a  torch  to  show 
thee  the  dawn  ? "  Do  you  need  proofs  from  nature 
— from  flower,  or  field,  or  forest,  or  sea,  or  deep  mine 
—or  arguments  and  evidences  of  the  lesser  kind,  to 
prove  that  God  loves  ?  Here  are  the  full  glories  of 
the  divine  Being  revealed  in  the  splendour  of  love. 
We  need  no  torch  to  show  us  that  dawn. 

We  may  think  also  of  the  height  of  this  measure- 
less love.  We  see  its  depth  in  the  condescension  of 
Christ  to  save  men.  We  may  measure  its  height  by 


68  THE  GREATEST  LOVE. 

thinking  of  the  exaltation  which  the  believing  sinner 
receives — from  sin's  depths,  where  Christ  finds  him, 
to  heaven's  heights,  where  glory  infolds  him.  He 
does  not  merely  lift  us  out  of  the  horrible  pit  of  guilt 
and  sin — that  is  only  half  a  salvation ;  He  also  sets 
our  feet  upon  a  rock  and  establishes  our  goings,  and 
puts  a  new  song  into  our  mouth.  He  restores  our 
soul,  until  the  old  lost  beauty  is  brought  back  again. 
He  exalts  us  to  be  with  Him,  to  share  the  blessedness 
of  heaven,  where 

"  The  quenched  lamps  of  hope  are  all  relighted 

And  the  golden  links  of  love  are  reunited." 

This  love  of  Christ  passeth  knowledge,  and  yet  we 
are  bidden  to  know  it.  To  know  it  is  to  wake  from 
death  to  life ;  not  to  know  it  is  to  abide  in  death. 
Word  reached  a  mother  during  the  war  that  her  boy 
had  been  wounded.  She  hurried  to  the  field  and 
found  the  hospital.  The  doctor  said,  "  Your  boy  is 
sleeping.  If  you  go  in  and  wake  him,  the  excite- 
ment will  kill  him.  By-and-by,  when  he  wakes,  I 
will  gradually  break  the  news  that  you  have  come." 

The  mother,  with  her  great  hungry  heart  yearn- 
ing to  see  her  boy,  looked  into  the  doctor's  face,  and 
said,  "  He  may  never  waken.  If  you  will  let  me  go 
in  and  sit  beside  him,  I  promise  not  to  speak  to 
him." 

The  doctor  consented.  The  mother  crept  to  the 
side  of  the  cot  and  looked  at  her  boy.  How  she 


THE  GREATEST  LOVE.  69 

longed  to  embrace  him !  After  a  few  moments  she 
laid  her  hand  on  his  forehead.  The  moment  her 
fingers  touched  his  brow,  the  boy's  lips  moved,  and 
he  whispered,  without  waking  or  opening  his  eyes, 
"  Mother,  you  have  come."  The  touch  of  love's  hand 
reached  the  boy's  soul  even  in  his  delirious  sleep. 

There  is  One  whose  touch  means  more  than  a 
mother's.  It  is  the  touch  of  a  pierced  hand — pierced 
in  love's  sacrifice  for  our  redemption.  Some  of  us 
are  unconscious  of  the  wonderful  love  that  is  bend- 
ing over  us  with  infinite  yearning.  May  the  touch 
of  that  blessed  hand  reveal  to  our  hearts  the  love, 
and  may  we  answer  in  faith's  whisper,  "  Jesus,  Thou 
hast  come  1 " 


CHAPTER  VI. 
SPICES  FOR  CHRIST'S  GRAVE. 

"  It  is  not  the  deed  we  do, 

Though  the  deed  be  ever  so  fair, 
But  the  love,  that  the  dear  Lord  looketh  for, 
Hidden  with  holy  care 
In  the  heart  of  the  deed  so  fair." 

HABRIET  M'EwBN  KIMBALL. 

SOMETIMES  in  a  night  of  storm  and  darkness 
there  will  appear  for  a  moment  a  little  rift  in 
the  heavy  clouds,  showing  a  speck  of  blue  sky  with 
a  single  silver  star  shining  in  it.  Something  like 
this  is  the  beautiful  incident  in  the  story  of  those 
dark  hours  between  Christ's  death  and  resurrection, 
when  the  women  went  out,  after  the  sunsetting,  to 
buy  spices  for  the  grave  of  their  Friend. 

It  had  been  to  them  a  day  of  unutterable  sadness. 
The  hope  had  gone  out  of  their  hearts.  They  sat  in 
despairing  grief.  All  was  lost  that  made  it  worth 
while  for  them  to  live.  They  thought  the  wonderful 
visions  they  had  had  of  the  glory  of  the  Messiah  had 
vanished  now  for  ever.  All  that  remained  to  them 
was  a  sweet  memory,  a  terrible  cross,  and  a  dark  grave. 


SPICES  FOR  CHRIST'S  GRAVE.  71 

In  the  dense  gloom  of  that  Sabbath  there  is  just 
one  spot  of  brightness :  it  is  the  loving  act  of  the 
women  friends  of  Jesus.  As  soon  as  the  holy  hours 
of  the  Sabbath  had  closed,  they  hastened  out  to  find 
the  shops,  to  buy  spices  and  ointments  to  carry  to 
the  tomb  in  the  early  morning,  to  strew  upon  the 
sacred  body  of  their  beloved  dead. 

Thus  the  love  of  women  shines  out  as  a  bright 
star  when  even  the  love  of  apostles  remained  in 
eclipse.  One  writer  compares  it  to  the  nightingale, 
which  is  famed  for  her  sweet  songs  in  the  night. 
"  She  sings  in  the  day  as  well ;  only,  as  other  song- 
sters are  then  in  full  chorus,  her  sweeter  strains  are 
not  distinguishable  from  the  rest.  But  at  night, 
when  all  others  are  hushed,  her  song  is  heard,  and  is 
more  sweet  by  reason  of  the  contrast  with  the  sur- 
rounding stillness.  So  it  was  with  these  women. 
They  served  in  the  day  of  bright  sunshine ;  but  their 
service  was  now  overshadowed,  so  to  speak,  by  the 
demonstrative  crowd  that  thronged  around  the 
Saviour.  But  when  the  voice  of  the  noisy,  effusive 
crowd  was  hushed  during  the  dark  night  of  trial 
and  suffering,  which  followed  the  brief  day  of  popu- 
larity, they  continued  to  give  forth  the  music  of 
love  and  sympathy  through  the  dark  loneliness  of 
the  night." 

We  must  notice  that  it  was  love  for  the  dead 
Christ  that  prompted  this  sweet  service.  The  women 
had  no  thought  that  He  would  rise  again.  Indeed, 


72  SPICES  FOB  CHRIST'S  GRAVE. 

the  nature  of  their  offering  shows  that  they  had  not. 
It  was  to  honour  His  dead  body  that  they  brought 
the  spices.  They  had  hoped  that  He  would  live  and 
found  a  great  kingdom,  but  their  hopes  had  perished. 
They  had  no  expectation  of  ever  seeing  Him  again. 
Yet  they  wanted  to  honour  Him.  They  remembered 
what  He  had  been  to  them  while  He  was  alive.  They 
remembered  his  beautiful  life,  with  its  gentleness, 
purity,  and  strength.  They  remembered  the  words 
they  had  heard  Him  speak,  which  had  been  such  an 
inspiration  to  them.  It  was  love  for  a  friend  who 
had  been  everything  to  them,  and  now  was  dead, 
that  inspired  these  loyal  women  in  what  they  did, 
and  not  any  hope  of  ever  seeing  Him  again  alive. 

They  did  not  understand  the  meaning  of  His  death. 
To  them  His  life  was  a  bewildering  tragedy.  Did 
it  mean  that  He  had  failed  ?  They  could  not  tell ; 
they  could  not  understand  it.  But  it  left  them 
without  hope  of  seeing  Him  again.  Yet  mark  how 
they  loved  and  honoured  Him,  even  though  they 
understood  not  the  glorious  meaning  of  His  death, 
and  saw  in  it  only  disaster  and  hopelessness. 

How  much  more  should  we  love  and  honour 
Christ  to-day,  when  all  is  plain  to  us,  when  we  see 
the  divine  love  shining  out  in  His  death  and  know 
its  whole  blessed  meaning !  While  these  women  were 
preparing  their  spices,  Jesus  still  lay  silent  and  cold 
in  His  grave,  at  the  door  of  which  Roman  soldiers 
kept  their  watch.  But  we  see  Him  risen,  and  alive 


SPICES  FOB  CHRIST'S  GRAVE.  73 

for  evermore.  On  His  head  He  wears  many  crowns. 
He  is  our  friend,  living  and  with  us ;  not  dead,  and 
remembered  only  from  a  sweet  vanished  past,  but 
our  companion,  our  guide,  our  helper,  with  us  always, 
in  all  the  blessedness  of  His  love. 

We  have  much  greater  reason  for  honouring  Christ 
to-day  than  these  faithful  women  had  at  the  close 
of  that  sad,  dark  Sabbath.  They  prepared  spices 
for  His  dead  body.  How  can  we  best  honour  Him  ? 
The  grave  is  empty,  and  His  body  needs  no  more  to 
be  anointed  with  the  fragrant  perfumes  that  are 
fitting  for  the  dead.  But  is  there  not  something 
suggestive  of  a  true  heart's  offering  in  spices  and 
ointments  with  their  sweet  odours  ?  What  have  we 
to  bring  to  honour  our  Redeemer  ? 

We  may  bring  our  heart's  true  worship.  Homage 
is  fragrant.  The  sweetest  spices  that  grow  in  this 
world  are  those  that  grow  in  the  garden  of  love.  If 
we  truly  love  Christ,  and  breathe  our  love  out  to 
Him  in  prayer  and  praise,  we  are  honouring  Him  in 
a  way  that  is  most  pleasing  to  Him.  Worship  is 
fragrant  to  Christ.  In  the  ancient  temple  the  altar 
of  incense  was  the  altar  of  prayer  and  praise.  In 
St.  John's  vision  of  heaven,  he  saw  golden  vials  full 
of  odours,  which  were  the  prayers  of  saints.  The 
meaning  is  that  the  worship  of  earth's  humble  be- 
lievers rises  up  to  heaven  as  fragrant  incense.  There 
is  something  exquisitely  beautiful  in  this  thought. 
The  homage,  the  praise,  the  pleadings  of  God's  people 


74  SPICES  FOR  CHRIST'S  GRAVE. 

rise  from  lowly  homes,  from  sick  rooms,  from  dark- 
ened chambers  of  grief,  where  loved  ones  kneel 
beside  their  dead,  from  humble  sanctuaries,  from 
stately  cathedrals,  and  are  wafted  up  before  God,  as 
the  breath  of  flowers  is  wafted  to  us  in  summer  days 
from  sweet  fields  and  fragrant  gardens. 

There  was  an  old  Jewish  fancy  that  Sandalphon, 
the  angel  of  prayer,  stood  at  the  gate  of  heaven,  re- 
ceiving in  his  hands  the  supplications  and  the  praises 
of  earth,  which  were  changed  to  sweet  flowers  as  he 
took  them.  The  old,  strange  fancy  is  not  unscrip- 
tural.  Sincere  heart -breathings  of  love  and  faith 
do  indeed  rise  as  the  fragrance  of  sweet  flowers  into 
the  presence  of  Christ.  When  acceptable  worship 
was  offered,  God  was  said  in  the  Scripture  to  smell 
a  sweet  savour.  We  can  honour  Christ  with  our 
heart's  true  adoration.  We  can  bring  the  spices  and 
ointments  of  loving  homage.  Nothing  else  in  the 
world  is  so  precious  to  Christ  as  the  love  of  His  own, 
when  it  breathes  out  from  lowly  hearts  and  rises  up 
to  Him. 

There  is  another  beautiful  fragment  of  teaching 
gathered  out  of  old  rabbinical  books,  which  says  that 
there  are  two  orders  of  angels — the  angels  of  service 
and  the  angels  of  praise.  The  angels  of  praise  are 
of  a  higher  order  than  the  others.  No  one  of  them 
praises  God  twice,  but  having  once  lifted  up  his 
voice  in  the  song  of  heaven  he  perishes  and  ceases 
to  be.  He  has  perfected  his  being.  His  song  is  the 


SPICES  FOR  CHRIST'S  GRAVE.  75 

full  flower  and  perfect  fruit  of  his  life — that  for 
which  he  was  created.  He  has  now  finished  his 
work,  and  his  spirit  is  breathed  out  in  his  one  holy 
psalm.  The  fancy  may  be  puerile,  but  there  is  in  it 
a  sweet  thought  and  a  deep  and  holy  truth.  The 
highest  act  of  which  the  human  soul  is  capable  is 
praise — true  worship.  We  are  taught  to  glorify  God 
in  whatsoever  we  do.  Adoration  should  rise  con- 
tinually from  our  hearts.  We  are  made  to  praise 
our  God.  The  unpraising  life  is  yet  an  unfruitful 
life;  at  least,  it  has  not  yet  borne  the  sweetest, 
ripest,  and  best  fruit  of  the  Spirit,  that  which  in 
God's  sight  is  most  precious  of  all  fruits.  In  heaven 
all  life  is  praise,pand  we  come  near  to  the  heavenly 
life  only  in  the  measure  that  our  life  here  is  praise 
and  homage.  Thus  we  have  in  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  the  counsel :  "  Through  Christ  then  let  us 
offer  up  a  sacrifice  of  praise  to  God  continually,  that 
is,  the  fruit  of  lips  which  make  confession  to  his 
name." 

We  can  bring  spices  for  Christ  in  service  of  love 
for  Him.  He  has  redeemed  us.  All  the  hopes  of 
our  lives  come  out  of  His  sacrifice  for  us.  All  our 
joys  come  from  the  cup  of  His  sorrow.  Our  peace 
comes  from  His  anguish.  We  will  wear  crowns  of 
life  and  glory  because  He  wore  a  crown  of  thorns. 
As  we  think  of  what  we  owe  to  Him,  our  love  must 
grow  deep  and  tender ;  and  what  can  we  do  but 
serve  Him  ?  It  is  sweet  to  think  of  His  love,  to 


76  SPICKS  FOR  CHRIST'S  GRAVE. 

receive  the  memorials  of  His  sacrifice,  to  remember 
His  sufferings  in  saving  us.  But  that  is  not  enough, 
Says  Bishop  Huntington:  "There  are  two  feasts, 
both  sacramental :  one  at  the  memorial  altar  of  the 
one  sacrifice  made  once  for  all ;  the  other,  wherever 
Christ  and  His  disciples  toil,  suffer,  die  for  mankind." 
To  the  one  we  come  with  joy  and  gladness,  as  we 
think  of  the  love  of  our  Saviour  for  us ;  but  let  us 
not  fail  in  the  other,  in  the  sacrament  of  service. 
These  women,  even  in  their  deep,  bewildering,  over- 
whelming sorrow,  rose  up  and  prepared  spices  and 
ointments  for  the  dead  Christ.  Shall  we  be  less  true 
and  earnest  in  our  love  for  the  Christ  who  was  dead 
but  is  now  alive  ? 

There  are  everywhere  those  who  need  our  service 
— Christ's  little  ones,  who  are  hungry  and  thirsty 
and  cold,  or  who  are  in  spiritual  need.  We  are  not 
to  wait  till  they  are  dead,  and  then  bring  flowers  to 
their  coffins.  The  women  who  brought  the  spices 
to  our  Lord's  grave  had  first  gone  with  Him  in  His 
weary  journeys,  ministering  unto  Him  of  their  sub- 
stance and  with  their  hands.  The  world  is  full  of 
sore  human  needs,  in  which  Christ  Himself  suffers. 
For  these  we  are  to  bring  our  spices,  if  we  would 
honour  our  Master,  and  we  are  to  bring  them  while 
the  need  is  pressing. 

It  is  not  money  alone,  nor  chiefly,  that  we  are 
called  to  bring.  Love  is  better  than  money.  Christ 
Himself  gave  no  money,  so  far  as  we  are  told ;  and 


SPICES  FOR  CHRIST'S  GRAVE.  77 

yet  never  was  there  any  other  who  gave  so  royally 
as  He  did.  He  gave  time,  strength,  energy,  thought, 
toil,  and  love.  These  are  the  spices  we  must  bring. 
They  are  fragrant  to  Christ.  Money  is  needed,  but 
money  alone  will  never  bless  the  world.  Nothing 
but  love  will  uplift  men  and  save  them.  Nothing 
but  heart's  blood  will  heal  hearts.  Says  George 
Macdonald :  "  It  is  not  because  of  God's  poverty  that 
the  world  is  so  slowly  redeemed.  Not  the  most 
righteous  expenditure  of  money  alone  will  save  it, 
but  the  expenditure  of  life  and  soul  and  spirit;  it 
may  be  that  of  nerve  and  muscle,  blood  and  brain. 
All  these  our  Lord  spent,  but  no  money." 

We  cannot  live  a  Christian  life  that  will  please 
Christ  without  cost  to  ourselves.  It  never  can  be  an 
easy  thing  to  be  such  disciples  as  He  would  have  us 
to  be.  An  easy,  self-indulgent  life  never  can  be  a 
really  Christ-like  life.  It  was  not  easy  for  Christ  to 
redeem  the  world.  From  the  beginning  to  the  end 
of  His  earthly  ministry  He  poured  out  His  own 
precious  life.  The  people  thronged  about  Him  with 
their  sins,  their  sorrows,  and  their  needs ;  and  virtue 
went  out  of  Him  continually  to  heal  them,  to  comfort 
them,  to  feed  their  heart-hunger.  He  utterly  forgot 
Himself,  and  gave  His  life  and  love  without  stint 
to  every  one  who  asked.  At  last  He  literally  gave 
Himself,  emptying  out  His  heart's  blood  to  become 
life  to  dead  souls.  His  sufferings  were  finished  when 
He  bowed  His  head  on  the  cross.  But  now  it  is  ours 


78  SPICES  FOR  CHRIST'S  GRAVE. 

to  suffer  for  Him.  Nothing  but  the  giving  of  life 
will  ever  save  the  world.  It  is  ours,  then,  to  per- 
petuate the  self-sacrifice  of  Christ  on  this  earth. 
Only  in  so  far  as  we  do  this  are  we  truly  bringing 
spices  to  anoint  Him. 

"  Oh,  win  against  the  love  of  Christ,  of  all  the  sins  that  are, 
Methinks  that  this  in  heaven  must  move  the  greatest  sorrow  far ; 
Must  make  the  soul  of  Christ  to  grieve,  and  angels'  eyes  grow  dim 
At  sight  £>f_all  He  does  for  us,  and  the  naughty  we  do  for  Him." 

Another  way  in  which  we  may  bring  spices  to 
honour  Christ,  is  in  patient  endurance  of  suffering. 

Christian  life  is  not  all  active.     It  is  easier  ofttimes 

• 

to  toil  and  sacrifice,  even  to  the  uttermost,  than  it  is 
to  be  still  and  sweet  in  time  of  pain.  Yet  the  per- 
fume is  very  fragrant  which  rises  from  the  heart 
that  suffers  and  yet  sings.  Even  amid  human  joy 
and  gladness  it  is  sweet  to  Christ  when  the  odours 
of  adoration  rise  from  the  heart.  But  praise  when 
the  life  is  in  the  midst  of  trial  or  sorrow  is  doubly 
precious  to  Him.  The  incense  in  the  temple  gave 
out  no  perfume  until  it  was  cast  upon  the  fire :  there 
are  many  lives  that  do  not  yield  the  richest  sweetness 
of  love  until  they  are  in  the  fires  of  pain.  With  such 
odours  Christ  is  well  pleased. 

We  should  seek  to  honour  Christ  in  all  those 
experiences  of  our  lives  which  are  hard.  You  are 
watching  by  the  bedside  of  one  of  your  dearest 
friends.  You  pray  earnestly  for  the  sparing  of  the 


SPICES  FOR  CHRIST'S  GRAVE.  79 

life  that  is  so  precious ;  but  at  length  it  seems  to  be 
God's  will  to  take  it  from  you.  Then  your  duty 
is  submission.  Tears  flow,  and  the  heart's  pain  is 
very  sore ;  but  there  is  no  murmuring,  no  complain- 
ing. There  is  trust  and  peace.  In  such  quiet,  loving 
submission  you  are  bringing  spices  and  ointments  to 
Christ. 

A  young  man  made  known  to  his  mother  his 
decision  to  go  out  as  a  foreign  missionary.  At  first, 
in  the  sudden  surprise,  she  could  not  give  her  consent. 
But  she  carried  her  burden  to  Christ,  and  one  morn- 
ing, as  she  met  her  son,  she  threw  her  arms  around 
him  and  said,  "  It  is  all  settled.  God  has  given  me 
grace  to  say  to  you, '  Go;'  and  I  bless  Him  for  putting 
it  into  your  heart  to  go ;  I  adore  Him  for  giving  me 
an  Isaac  to  offer  on  His  altar."  When  the  parting 
came,  she  took  off  her  wedding-ring  in  the  presence 
of  his  father,  and  said,  "  This  is  the  dearest  thing  I 
possess.  I  have  worn  it  more  than  forty  years ;  and 
now,  in  the  expectation  that  I  shall  never  see  you 
again  in  this  world,  I  give  it,  in  your  father's  pres- 
ence, to  you  as  a  token  of  our  united  love."  That 
was  strewing  spices  before  Christ.  It  was  honouring 
Him  by  the  sweet  and  quiet  acceptance  of  His  will, 
when  to  accept  it  cut  into  the  very  heart  of  human 
love. 

Gentleness  of  temper,  speech,  and  feeling,  when 
one  is  called  to  endure  insults,  wrongs,  or  injuries, 
is  another,  example  of  the  love  that  honours  Christ. 


80  SPICES  FOR  CHRIST'S  GRAVE. 

None  of  us  can  live  long  in  the  thick  of  life  and 
not  sometimes  be  touched  rudely,  perhaps  even 
cruelly,  by  others.  How  shall  we  endure  these 
things  that  so  hurt  and  wound  us  ?  We  know 
what  Jesus  would  do,  what  He  did  do  in  like 
experiences.  When  He  was  reviled,  He  reviled  not 
again.  There  are  certain  flowers  that  emit  no  fra- 
grance as  they  grow,  but  when  they  are  crushed 
they  give  out  perfume  which  anoints  the  hand 
that  bruised  them.  Christ's  life  was  ever  giving  out 
love  and  kindness.  He  met  reviling  with  blessing. 
They  hung  Him  on  the  cross  till  He  died,  but  in 
that  cruel  death  He  made  redemption  for  the  world. 
When  we  are  wronged,  or  hurt,  or  treated  unkindly, 
or  cruelly,  if  we  would  honour  our  blessed  Lord,  we 
must  endure  with  sweet  forgiveness  and  patience. 
Love  which  beareth  all  things,  endureth  all  things, 
forgives,  returns  kindness  for  unkindness,  brings 
spices  and  ointments  to  honour  Christ. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE   EVERLASTING  ARMS. 

14  O  great  Heart  of  God  !  whose  loving 

Cannot  hindered  be  nor  crossed, 
Will  not  weary,  will  not  even 
In  our  death  itself  be  lost — 
Love  divine  I  of  such  great  loving, 

Only  mothers  know  the  cost — 
Cost  of  love  which,  all  love  passing, 
Gave  a  Son  to  save  the  lost." 

SAX K  HOLM. 

BIBLE  words  are  for  all  ages.  What  God  said 
to  Moses  was  for  him,  but  it  is  for  us  as  well. 
The  promises  are  like  the  stars :  they  shone  down 
on  Abraham,  on  David,  on  Jesus;  but  they  shine 
down  on  us  with  the  same  light.  Wherever  we 
find  a  word  which  God  gave  to  any  of  His  children, 
even  thousands  of  years  since,  we  have  a  right  to 
appropriate  it  to  ourselves,  just  as  if  it  were  now 
spoken  directly  out  of  the  heavens  to  us. 

This  is  the  true  way  to  read  the  Bible — to  let  it 
speak  always  directly  to  us.  Its  words  are  like 
bubbling  springs  by  life's  wayside.  For  ages,  pil- 
grims have  been  drinking  from  them  as  they  passed 

(638)  6 


82  THE  EVERLASTING  ARMS. 

by.  To-day,  you  and  I  come  weary  and  thirsty,  and 
we  stoop  and  dip  up  the  sweet  water,  as  sweet  to  us 
as  it  was  to  those  who  first  drank  of  it  when  the 
spring  was  opened.  Every  precious  word  in  the 
Bible  is  for  us,  if  we  are  God's  children.  For 
example,  there  is  a  word  that  was  first  spoken 
among  the  blessings  wherewith  Moses,  the  man 
of  God,  blessed  the  children  of  Israel.  But  it  is 
present  tense :  "  Underneath  are  the  everlasting 
arms ; "  so  it  is  true  always  for  every  believer. 

The  Bible  is  a  book  of  love.  The  heart  of  God 
beats  in  all  its  chapters.  So  long  as  sorrow,  suf- 
fering, weakness,  and  need  are  in  the  world,  so  long 
will  the  Bible  have  a  welcome  among  men.  In  a 
thousand  gentle  ways  does  it  reveal  to  us  the  affec- 
tionateness  and  tenderness  of  God.  What  could  be 
more  sweet  and  winning  than  the  thought  of  the 
everlasting  arms  underneath  God's  child  ? 

The  words  suggest  the  truth  of  the  divine  up- 
holding, support,  and  keeping.  There  is  great  com- 
fort in  this  view  of  our  relation  to  God.  This  is 
a  large  world.  It  is  full  of  dangers  and  trials. 
Circumstances  not  under  our  control  would  crush 
us,  if  we  had  to  contend  with  them  in  our  own 
strength.  None  of  us  live  long  until  we  learn 
that  we  cannot  take  care  of  ourselves.  How  com- 
forting it  is,  then,  to  have  such  a  vision  as  this — 
held  in  the  embrace  of  everlasting  arms !  We  are 
not  fighting  our  own  battles  unaided.  We  are 


THE  EVERLASTING  ARMS.  83 

not  alone,  unsheltered,  unprotected,  in  this  great 
world  of  danger.  We  are  kept — kept  by  the 
power  of  God.  God's  omnipotence  encircles  us  and 
infolds  us.  The  things  that  are  too  strong  for 
us  we  need  not  fear,  for  almighty  arms  are  about 
us.  "Underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms."  Our 
part,  then,  is  simple  trust.  The  picture  suggested 
is  that  of  a  little  child,  held  in  the  strong  arms 
of  a  father  who  is  able  to  withstand  all  dangers 
and  to  shelter  his  child  from  the  same. 

There  is  a  special  thought  here  for  the  children. 
A  strangely  sweet  Messianic  promise  in  Isaiah  reads : 
"  He  shall  gather  the  lambs  with  his  arm,  and  cany 
them  in  his  bosom."  The  lambs  cannot  walk  all  the 
long,  rough  way,  when  the  flock  is  led  out  to  find 
water  or  pasture.  They  sink  down  in  the  heat  or 
on  the  steep  hills.  Does  the  shepherd  then  go  on 
with  his  flock,  and  leave  the  fainting  lambs  to 
perish  ?  No ;  he  gathers  them  with  his  arms  and 
carries  them  in  his  bosom. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  things  in  all  the  Bible 
is  the  gentleness  of  God  everywhere  shown  toward 
the  children.  In  the  old  Jewish  church  they  were 
early  given  to  God,  and  the  wings  of  the  divine  shel- 
ter were  spread  over  them.  The  most  minute  rules 
were  given  for  their  instruction,  that  their  minds 
might  be  filled  with  holy  thoughts.  In  the  New 
Testament,  no  picture  is  more  beautiful  than  that  of 
Jesus  taking  infants  in  His  arms  and  blessing  them. 


84  THE  EVERLASTING  ARMS. 

There  is  a  special  thought  here  also  for  the  old. 
At  life's  two  extremes  we  find  weakness,  defence- 
lessness.  Childhood,  with  its  innocence  and  inex- 
perience, cannot  care  for  itself.  Then  old  age, 
with  its  infirmities,  its  dimness  of  eye,  its  trembling 
limbs,  cannot  stand  before  the  roughness  and  under 
the  burdens  of  life.  But  there  is  a  promise  which 
says:  "Even  to  your  old  age  I  am  he;  and  even 
to  hoar  hairs  will  I  carry  you :  I  have  made,  and 
I  will  bear ;  even  I  will  carry,  and  will  deliver  you." 
The  old  people  need  not  be  afraid  as  their  infirmities 
multiply,  and  as  dangers  thicken.  "  Underneath  are 
the  everlasting  arms." 

God  comes  to  us  first  in  our  infancy,  in  our 
mothers,  who  bear  us  in  their  arms.  All  love  is  of 
God ;  mother-love  is  likest  God's  of  all  human  loves. 
The  old  Jewish  rabbis  used  to  say,  "  God  cannot  be 
everywhere,  and  therefore  He  made  mothers."  A 
mother's  arms  are  underneath  her  child  in  its  in- 
fancy. Most  of  us  know  what  mother-love  is.  Per- 
haps those  who  have  lost  it  know  best  what  it  is, 
for  while  we  have  it  we  cannot  see  all  its  beauty ; 
only  when  it  is  gone  is  all  its  preciousness  revealed. 
Our  mothers  leave  us  after  they  have  taught  us  in 
their  own  life  a  little  of  God's  own  tenderness,  but 
God  Himself  remains,  and  His  arms  never  unclasp. 

After  Horace  Bushnell's  death,  they  found,  dimly 
pencilled  on  a  sheet  of  paper,  these  words:  "My 
mother's  loving  instinct  was  from  God,  and  God  was 


THE  EVERLASTING  ARMS.  85 

in  her  in  love  to  me  first,  therefore ;  which  love  was 
deeper  than  hers  and  more  protracted.  Long  years 
ago  she  vanished,  but  God  stays  by  me  still,  embrac- 
ing me  in  my  grey  hairs  as  tenderly  and  carefully  as 
she  did  in  my  infancy,  and  giving  to  me,  as  my  joy 
and  the  principal  glory  of  my  life,  that  He  lets  me 
know  Him,  and  helps  me,  with  real  confidence,  to  call 
Him  my  Father." 

This  thought  is  very  beautiful.  Mother-love  is 
God's  love  revealing  itself  first  to  the  child  in  tender 
human  ways  which  it  can  understand.  It  could  not 
then  be  made  to  know  God's  love  in  any  other  way. 
If  God  should  appear,  His  glory  would  terrify  the 
child.  By-and-by  the  mother  vanishes,  but  the 
lesson  has  been  learned ;  the  love  remains,  revealed 
no  longer  in  the  human  voice  and  touch  and  help, 
yet  no  less  real,  no  less  tender,  and  infinitely  deeper 
and  stronger  and  more  lasting.  The  mother  does 
her  work  for  her  child  when  she  has  taught  it  the 
love  of  God.  Then  she  goes  away.  What  mother- 
love  is  to  the  infant — heart-filling,  satisfying — God's 
love  is  to  the  motherless  old  man  who  rests  in  the 
clasp  of  the  everlasting  arms. 

In  this  world  of  peril,  the  place  of  the  believer  in 
Christ  is  in  the  clasp  of  God's  love.  In  one  of  the 
great  freshets  of  the  West,  when  the  wild  waters 
spread  over  the  valley,  bearing  trees  and  fences  and 
crops  and  buildings  in  their  floods,  some  men  in  a 
boat  saw  a  baby's  cradle  floating  amid  the  wreckage. 


86  THE  EVERLASTING  ARMS. 

Rowing  to  it,  they  found  the  baby  dry  and  safe,  and 
sleeping  sweetly  in  its  warm  blankets.  So,  amid 
earth's  perils  and  wrecks,  the  feeblest  of  God's  little 
ones  are  kept,  secure  and  unharmed,  in  the  everlasting 
arms.  "  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose 
mind  is  stayed  on  thee." 

There  are  some  definite  suggestions  in  the  figure 
of  an  embracing  arm.  What  does  an  arm  represent  ? 
One  thought  is  protection.  A  father  puts  his  arm 
about  his  child  when  it  is  in  danger.  God  protects 
his  children.  Temptations  beset  us  on  every  hand. 
Many  people  think  of  dying  with  dread,  fearing  to 
me'et  it.  But  life  has  far  more  perils  than  death. 
It  is  easy  to  die  when  one  has  lived  truly ;  it  is  only 
entering  into  joy  and  blessedness.  But  it  is  hard  to 
live.  At  every  point  there  are  perils.  We  need  pro- 
tection. Here  we  have  it.  "  The  eternal  God  is  thy 
refuge,  and  underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms." 
There  is  an  invisible  protection.  One  morning  the 
servant  of  the  prophet  arose  and  looked  out  of  the 
window  and  saw  Syrian  soldiers  encircling  the  town. 
"  Alas,  my  master !  how  shall  we  do  ? "  he  cried  in 
alarm.  But  the  prophet  answered  calmly,  "Fear 
not ;  for  they  that  be  with  us  are  more  than  they 
that  be  with  them."  The  servant  looked  out  again, 
and  lo !  the  mountain  was  full  of  horses  and  chariots 
of  fire,  round  about  Elisha.  Inside  the  circle  of 
soldiers  was  a  circle  of  heavenly  protection.  What- 
ever dangers  beset  the  Christian,  there  is  an  un- 


THE  EVERLASTING  ARMS.  87 

seen  defence.  "  Underneath  are  the  everlasting 
arms." 

Another  suggestion  is  affection.  The  father's  arm 
about  the  child  means  love.  The  child  is  held  in 
the  bosom,  near  the  heart.  John  lay  on  Christ's 
bosom.  The  shepherd  gathers  the  lambs  with  his 
arms  and  carries  them  in  his  bosom.  This  picture 
of  God  embracing  His  children  with  His  arm,  tells 
of  His  love  for  them.  It  tells  also  of  intimacy, 
closeness  of  relation.  The  bosom  is  the  children's 
place. 

There  is  yet  a  tenderer  phase  of  the  thought  here, 
for  it  is  especially  in  the  time  of  danger  or  suffering 
that  the  mother  carries  the  child  in  her  arms.  She 
takes  it  up  when  it  has  fallen  and  hurt  itself,  and 
comforts  it  by  holding  it  in  her  arms.  When  it  is 
sick  she  bears  it  thus  and  presses  it  to  her  bosom. 
When  the  minister  went  to  baptize  a  sick  child,  the 
mother  told  him  it  had  scarcely  been  out  of  her 
arms  for  three  days  and  nights.  This  is  a  peculiar 
privilege  of  love,  therefore,  for  times  of  pain  or 
suffering — to  be  held  in  the  arms — and  tells  of 
peculiar  sympathy  and  tenderness  in  our  heavenly 
Father  for  His  children  when  they  are  in  pain  or  in 
trouble.  This  is  one  of  the  blessings  of  suffering 
of  which  we  do  not  always  think — that  it  gets  us 
the  inner  place  of  divine  affection,  nearest  to  the 
Father's  heart.  God  draws  us  nearest  when  we  arc 
in  trouble  or  in  pain. 


88  THE  EVERLASTING  ARMS. 

"  As  feeble  babes  that  suffer, 

Toss  and  cry  and  will  not  rest, 
Are  the  ones  the  tender  mother 

Holds  the  closest,  loves  the  best ; 
So  when  we  are  weak  and  wretched, 

By  our  sins  weighed  down,  distressed, 
Then  it  is  that  God's  great  patience 

Holdk.  us  closest,  loves  us  best." 

The  arm  is  also  the  symbol  of  strength.  A 
mother's  arm  may  be  physically  frail,  but  love 
makes  it  strong.  The  arm  of  God  is  strong.  It  is 
omnipotent.  It  supports  the  worlds.  When  that 
divine  arm  is  folded  about  a  feeble  child,  all  the 
power  of  the  universe  cannot  tear  it  away.  _W(L 
know  what  it  is  even  in  human  friendship  to  have 
one  on  whose  arm  we  can  lean  with  confidence. 
There  are  some  people  whose  mere  presence  gives  us 
a  sense  of  security.  We  believe  in  them,  In  their 
quiet  peace  there  is  strength  which  imparts  some- 
thing of  itself  to  all  who  come  near  them.  Every 
true  human  friend  is  more  or  less  a  strength  to  us. 
Yet  the  finest,  securest  human  strength  is  only  a 
little  fragment  of  the  divine  strength.  This  is  omni- 
potence. "  In  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  everlasting 
strength."  There  is  an  arm  that  never  can  be 
broken,  and  out  of  its  clasp  we  never  can  be  torn. 

Another  thought  in  the  everlasting  arm  is  endur- 
ance. There  might  be  protection,  affection,  and 
strength,  and  yet  the  blessings  might  not  last.  We 
have  all  these  in  human  love,  but  human  arms  grow 


THE  EVERLASTING  ARMS.  89 

weary^  even  in  love's  embrace.  They  cannot  long 
press  the  child  to  the  bosom.  Here  is  a  man  whose 
arm  is  paralyzed  and  hangs  powerless  by  his  side. 
No  more  can  that  arm  wind  itself  about  the  feeble- 
ness which  it  has  so  long  and  with  such  gentleness 
embraced.  But  the  arms  of  God  are  everlasting. 
They  shall  never  grow  weary.  It  is  everlastingness 
that  is  the  highest  blessedness  of  divine  affection 
and  care. 

A  young  man  stood  by  the  coffin  of  his  beloved 
wife,  after  only  one  short  year  of  wedded  happiness. 
It  was  very,  very  sweet — the  clasp  of  that  love ;  but, 
oh,  how  brief  a  time  it  lasted,  and  how  desolate  now 
wad  the  life  that  had  lost  the  precious  companion- 
ship !  A  little  baby,  two  weeks  old,  was  left  mother- 
less. The  mother  clasped  her  baby  to  her  breast  and 
drew  her  feeble  arms  about  it  in  one  long,  loving 
embrace ;  but  the  child  will  nevermore  have  a 
mother's  arms  about  it,  for  even  God  cannot  twice 
give  a  mother.  So  pathetic  is  human  life,  with  its 
broken  affections,  its  little  moments  of  loving,  fol- 
lowed by  separation,  its  winding  of  arms  around  the 
life  only  to  be  torn  away  in  an  hour.  But  here  is 
something  that  lasts,  that  knows  no  separation,  that 
never  unclasps.  The  arms  of  God  are  everlasting. 
Neither  death  nor  life  can  separate.  The  mountains 
shall  depart,  crumble,  vanish,  but  God's  kindness 
shall  never  depart  from  His  child. 

There  Is  a  very  sacred  thought  in  the  word  "  under- 


90  THE  EVERLASTING  ARMS. 

neath."  A  father  tried  to  save  his  child  in  the  waves, 
clasping  his  arms  about  the  loved  form.  But  the 
arms  were  too  weak,  and  the  child  slipped  from 
them,  sank  away  in  the  dark  waters,  and  perished. 
But  the  arms  of  God  are  underneath  His  children, 
and  no  one  can  sink  out  of  their  embrace.  These 
arms  are  always  underneath.  The  waves  of  sorrow 
are  very  deep,  but  still  and  for  ever  underneath  the 
deepest  floods  are  the  everlasting  arms.  We  cannot 
sink  below  them.  If  we  lie  down  in  sickness,  the 
everlasting  arms  are  underneath  us.  If  human 
friendships  are  stripped  off,  and  we  stand  alone  in 
our  bereavement,  still  we  are  not  alone.  He  who 
changes  not  abides  with  us.  Underneath  are  the 
everlasting  arms.  God  remains,  and  God  suffices. 
Then,  when  death  comes,  and  every  earthly  thing  is 
gone  from  beneath  us,  and  every  hand  unclasps  from 
ours,  and  every  face  of  love  fades  from  our  eyes,  and 
we  sink  away  into  what  seems  darkness  and  the 
shadow  of  death,  it  will  be  only  into  the  everlasting 
arms.  When  Jesus  was  dying,  He  said,  "  Father,  into 
thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit."  He  found  no 
darkness,  no  loneliness,  no  deep  river — only  the  ever- 
lasting arms.  That  is  what  dying  is  to  every  be- 
liever in  Christ — only  out  of  the  earth's  weariness 
and  pain  into  the  bosom  of  Christ ;  absent  from  the 
body,  at  home  with  the  Lord. 

We  need  to  train  ourselves  to  trust  God  unwaver- 
ingly    Yet  it  is  here  that  so  many  are  weak.     They 


THE  EVERLASTING  AKMS.  91 

are  not  sure  of  their  trust  in  Christ,  and  therefore 
they  are  easily  alarmed.  Trouble  dismays  them. 
Danger  fills  them  with  dread.  Their  peace  is  broken 
with  small  cares  and  trials.  They  have  little  zeal 
in  Christian  work.  They  are  easily  discouraged  by 
difficulties  and  obstacles.  Their  religion  is  a  matter 
of  temperature,  rising  and  falling  like  the  mercury. 
They  begin  things  and  drop  them.  Their  praying  is 
fitful  and  spasmodic.  Their  good  resolves  are  like 
summer  blossoms  which  fall  off  and  come  to  naught 
when  the  first  frost  comes. 

If  our  minds  were  stayed  on  Christ,  we  should 
have  perfect  peace.  If  we  realized  that  the  eternal 
God  is  our  refuge,  and  that  the  everlasting  arms  are 
truly  underneath  us,  our  joy  would  not  fluctuate  as 
it  does,  nor  our  zeal  be  so  fitful.  The  revival  we 
need  is  a  closer  relation  with  Christ,  a  deeper  repose 
in  Him,  a  more  trustful  settling  down  upon  Him  and 
upon  His  atoning  work.  Then  nothing  could  disturb 
our  confidence,  nothing  could  chill  our  ardour,  nothing 
could  hinder  our  consecration.  Then  in  sorrow  we 
should  rejoice,  in  temptation  we  should  be  victorious, 
in  all  life  we  should  be  Christ-like  and  strong. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  DISCIPLE  WHOM  JESUS   LOVED. 

"  Our  livee  they  are  well  worth  the  living, 

When  we  lose  our  small  selves  in  the  whole, 
And  feel  the  strong  surges  of  being 

Throb  through  us,  one  heart  and  one  souL 
Eternity  bears  up  each  honest  endeavour ; 
The  life  lost  for  love  is  life  saved,  and  for  ever." 

LOOT  LABCOM. 

ONE  of  the  most  tender  pictures  in  the  gospel  is 
that  which  shows  us  one  of  Christ's  disciples 
leaning  on  the  Master's  breast.  No  name  is  given. 
We  are  told  that  it  was  the  disciple  "whom  Jesus 
loved."  We  know  then  who  it  was.  In  all  the 
Gospel  written  by  John  he  does  not  once  mention 
his  own  name,  but  the  book  shines  from  beginning 
to  end  with  the  splendour  of  the  person  of  Christ. 
He  glorified  the  Master,  and  hid  himself.  While 
we  insist  on  writing  our  own  name  on  every  little 
picture  of  Christ  we  paint,  and  projecting  our  own 
personality  into  all  our  Christian  work,  demanding 
recognition,  honour,  and  credit  for  ourselves,  we  can- 
not worthily  honour  our  Master.  Like  John,  we 


THE  DISCIPLE  WHOM  JESUS  LOVED.  93 

should  write  gospels  which  shall  show  forth  the 
glorious  honour  of  Christ,  His  sweet  beauty,  His 
gentle  love,  in  which  we  shall  nowhere  inscribe  so 
much  as  our  initials. 

There  is  another  thought  here,  with  a  lesson.  This 
disciple,  who  nowhere  wrote  his  own  name  on  any 
page  of  his  Gospel,  spoke  of  himself  again  and  again 
by  the  designation,  "  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved." 
He  did  not  say,  "  the  disciple  who  loved  Jesus."  His 
hope  lay  not  in  his  love  for  Christ,  but  in  Christ's 
love  for  him.  This  is  the  central  principle  of  divine 
grace.  We  find  it  in  such  words  as  these,  "  Not 
that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us ; "  "  We 
love  him,  because  he  first  loved  us ; "  "  Ye  have  not 
chosen  me,  but  I  have  chosen  you."  It  is  never  our 
love  for  Christ  that  saves  us,  but  always  Christ's 
love  for  us. 

In  John  leaning  on  Jesus'  bosom,  we  have  a  type 
of  all  true  Christian  faith.  Look  at  the  little  child 
lying  on  the  mother's  bosom.  It  has  no  fears,  no 
anxieties,  no  questionings.  It  nestles  in  the  place  of 
love,  feels  the  strong  arm  encircle  it,  and  has  not  a 
care.  Thus  ought  we  to  learn  to  lie  in  the  bosom  of 
Christ. 

No  lesson  is  taught  in  the  Scriptures  more  repeat- 
edly than  the  duty  and  privilege  of  trusting  in 
Christ.  We  are  taught  that  we  are  taken  care  of  in 
this  world,  more  constantly,  kept  more  securely,  than 
the  most  favoured  child  on  earth  can  be  taken  care 


94  THE  DISCIPLE  WHOM  JESUS  LOVED. 

of,  or  kept,  in  the  securest,  most  loving  home.  We  are 
taught  to  be  anxious  for  nothing.  There  are  many 
needs  and  trials,  but  "  your  Father  knoweth."  There 
are  sorrows  and  losses,  but  "  all  things  work  together 
for  good."  This  great,  wild,  turbulent,  wicked  world 
seems  to  be  a  perilous  place  for  Christ's  little  ones 
to  live  in ;  but  every  one  of  them  is  kept  and  carried 
in  Christ's  bosom.  It  is  Jesus  Himself  who  tells  us 
that  the  strongest  and  most  honoured  angels  are  set 
to  guard  the  children,  and  that  they  are  always 
admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  Father  in  heaven. 
His  words  bring  before  us  this  picture — beside  each 
little  one  of  Christ  is  an  angel  guardianship  which 
makes  the  feeblest  of  them  all  as  safe,  even  in  this 
world,  as  if  they  were  already  in  heaven. 

So  in  all  this  world's  wild  turbulence,  amid  its 
enmities,  its  temptations,  its  trials  and  sorrows,  its 
wants  and  dangers,  its  strifes  and  conflicts,  every 
child  of  God  may  be  kept  in  perfect  peace.  Wher- 
ever he  is,  whatever  his  circumstances  or  his  condi- 
tion, he  is  really  lying  on  the  bosom  of  Jesus.  We 
should  learn  not  to  be  afraid  in  life's  wildest  storms. 
Though  all  earthly  things  are  torn  from  our  clasp 
and  all  earthly  refuges  are  swept  away,  leaving  us 
in  the  midst  of  dangers  unprotected,  unsheltered,  still 
God  is  our  refuge,  and  still  do  we  lie  in  the  bosom  of 
divine  love.  No  earthly  walls  can  ever  make  such  a 
secure  dwelling-place  as  is  the  bosom  of  the  Almighty. 

When  was  it  that  John  leaned  on  the  Master's 


THE  DISCIPLE  WHOM  JESUS  LOVED.  95 

bosom  ?  It  was  not  on  one  of  the  bright  days  of 
John's  discipleship.  Even  then  the  picture  would 
have  been  beautiful,  teaching  us  its  sweet  lessons  of 
love  and  communion.  But  it  was  not  at  any  such 
time  as  this.  It  was  on  the  last  night  of  our  Lord's 
life,  a  time  of  great  darkness,  of  strange,  bewildering 
fear,  of  sore  alarm  and  danger.  Never  did  deeper 
night  hang  around  human  hearts  on  earth  than  hung 
that  night  about  the  hearts  of  Christ's  friends.  Yet 
where  was  John  ?  Lying  on  the  bosom  of  Jesus ! 

What  is  the  lesson  ?  There  may  come  to  any  of 
us,  amid  the  swift  and  sudden  changes  of  time,  an 
hour  of  darkness,  of  alarm,  of  sorrow.  Where  shall 
we  then  go  ?  We  cannot  understand  the  meaning  of 
the  strange  events  that  bring  such  desolation  or  such 
bewilderment;  but  for  that  very  reason  the  best 
thing  we  can  do  is  to  lie  down  on  the  bosom  of 
Christ  and  leave  in  His  hands  all  the  strange  ques- 
tions, all  the  perplexity.  He  knows,  He  understands. 
If  we  turn  to  Him  in  our  times  of  darkness  we  shall 
always  find  light,  for  it  is  never  dark  where  He  is. 
Even  a  strong  human  friend  is  a  refuge  in  time  of 
trouble ;  much  more,  in  the  secret  of  the  presence  of 
Christ,  shall  we  find  peace  in  the  time  of  earthly 
dismay. 

Where  was  it  that  John  leaned  ?  It  was  on  the 
bosom  of  Jesus.  He  did  not  merely  put  his  hand 
into  his  Master's.  The  hand  is  the  symbol  of  guid- 
ance, upholding,  help.  Jt  is  good  to  be  held  by  the 


96  THE  DISCIPLE  WHOM  JESUS  LOVED. 

hand  of  the  strong  Son  of  God.  John  did  not  lean 
merely  on  the  arm  of  Christ.  The  arm  means 
strength,  upbearing,  protection,  security.  It  is  a 
blessed  comfort  to  have  the  everlasting  arm  under- 
neath us.  John  leaned  on  the  Lord's  bosom.  He 
lay  close  to  His  heart.  The  bosom  is  the  place  of 
shelter.  It  is  also  the  place  of  love.  The  Good 
Shepherd  carries  the  lambs  in  His  bosom.  It  is  a 
great  comfort  to  have  the  power  of  Christ  for  our 
help,  our  security,  our  refuge;  but  it  is  infinitely 
better  to  have  the  love  of  Christ  for  our  hiding- 
place,  our  shelter.  To  lie  on  the  bosom  of  Jesus  is 
to  be  wrapped  in  the  precious  folds  of  love.  A 
mother's  bosom  is  for  her  child  the  softest  place  in 
all  this  world ;  but  the  bosom  of  Jesus  is  infinitely 
softer  and  warmer. 

What  did  John  do  ?  He  leaned  on  Jesus'  bosom. 
The  word  "  leaned  "  is  very  suggestive.  Perhaps  we 
miss  something  of  the  full,  rich  meaning  of  our 
privilege,  in  this  regard,  as  believers  in  Christ.  We 
understand  that  we  may  cast  our  burdens  on  Christ, 
that  the  loads  which  are  too  heavy  for  us  to  carry  He 
will  help  us  to  carry.  We  speak  of  bearing  Christ's 
yoke,  and  we  like  to  think  that  He  walks  beside  us 
and  helps  us,  as  our  divine  yoke-fellow.  Then  we 
go  further,  and  think  of  Him  bearing  our  sins.  The 
load  that  would  sink  our  souls  to  the  depths  of 
eternal  despair,  we  may  lay  on  Jesus,  the  Lamb  of 
God, 


THE  DISCIPLE  WHOM  JESUS  LOVED.  97 

But  even  this  is  not  all  that  is  implied  in  leaning 
upon  Jesus'  bosom.  John  left  all  his  care  in  his 
Master's  hands  that  night.  The  hopes  that  seemed 
crushed  now — his  bitter  disappointment — he  laid 
down  in  the  bosom  of  heavenly  love.  But  as  we 
look  at  the  picture,  we  see  that  the  beloved  disciple 
leaned  his  own  weight  upon  Jesus;  not  only  the 
burden  of  his  sorrow,  his  perplexity,  and  his  loss  did 
he  lay  on  Jesus — but  himself.  A  friend  was  moving 
his  library,  and  his  little  boy  was  helping  him  to  carry 
his  books  upstairs.  The  child  had  gathered  his  arms 
full,  and  had  gone  off  proudly  with  his  load.  Pres- 
ently, however,  the  father  heard  a  call  for  help.  The 
little  fellow  had  gotten  half-way  up  the  stairs,  when 
the  burden  proved  too  heavy,  and  he  sank  down. 
He  wanted  his  father  to  come  and  take  part  of  the 
books.  The  father  heard  the  call,  and,  coming  up 
the  stairs,  he  lifted  and  carried  both  the  boy  and  his 
load.  Thus  it  is  that  Christ  carries  us  and  all  our 
burdens.  There  is  nothing  in  all  our  life  that  He 
does  not  assume  when  He  becomes  our  friend  He 
takes  our  sins  and  puts  them  away.  He  takes  our 
wicked  heart  and  changes  it.  He  takes  our  sinful 
life  and  restores  it.  He  takes  our  mistakes  and 
sins  and  corrects  them.  He  takes  into  His  hand  the 
guidance  of  our  life,  the  ordering  of  our  steps,  the 
shaping  of  our  circumstances,  the  ruling  and  over- 
ruling of  the  events  of  our  days,  our  deliverance  in 
temptation.  When  we  give  ourselves  to  Clirist,  we 

(538)  7 


98  THE  DISCIPLE  WHOM  JESUS  LOVED. 

really  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  our  own 
life,  but  our  simple  duty,  day  by  day,  hour  by  hour. 
"  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  his  right- 
eousness," is  our  one  duty ;  and  "  all  these  things  shall 
be  added  unto  you,"  is  the  divine  part. 

This  picture  suggests  to  us  the  secret  of  a  beautiful 
life.  Artists  in  their  pictures  paint  John  the  most 
like  Jesus  of  any  of  the  apostles.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  he  was  the  most  beloved  of  all  because  he  was 
the  most  lovable  of  all.  His  Gospel  and  Epistles 
breathe  the  spirit  of  a  most  sweet  and  gentle  char- 
acter. Yet  there  are  indications  that  it  was  not 
always  so — that  originally  he  was  fiery,  vehement, 
resentful.  Once  he  desired  to  call  down  fire  from 
heaven  to  burn  up  a  village  and  destroy  its  inhabit- 
ants because  they  had  refused  to  entertain  Jesus. 
This  was  not  the  spirit  of  love  which  we  find  in  him 
later.  He  had  to  learn  the  lesson  of  love. 

Dr.  Culross  compares  the  character  of  John  in  its 
mellow  ripeness  to  an  ancient  extinct  volcano.  Where 
once  the  crater  yawned  there  is  now  a  verdurous, 
cup-like  hollow  in  the  mountain  summit.  Where 
once  the  fierce  fire  burned  lies  a  still,  clear  pool  of 
water,  looking  up  like  an  eye  to  the  beautiful  heavens 
above,  its  banks  covered  with  sweet  flowers.  "  It  is 
an  apt  parable  of  this  man.  Naturally  and  originally 
volcanic,  capable  of  profoundest  passion  and  daring, 
he  is  new-made  by  grace,  till,  in  his  old  age,  he 
stands  out  in  calm  grandeur  of  character  and  depth 


THE  DISCIPLE  WHOM  JESUS  LOVED.  99 

and  largeness  of  soul,  with  all  the  gentlenesses  and 
graces  of  Christ  adorning  him — a  man,  as  I  imagine 
him  to  myself,  with  a  face  so  noble  that  kings  might 
do  him  homage,  and  so  sweet  that  little  children 
would  run  to  him  for  his  blessing." 

What  was  it  that  wrought  this  transformation  in 
John?  What  was  it  that  subdued  the  spirit  of 
resentment  in  him  to  the  gentleness  of  love  ?  What 
was  it  that  made  the  "son  of  thunder"  into  the 
apostle  of  Christly  affectionateness  ?  It  was  lying 
upon  the  Master's  bosom  that  did  it.  The  lump  of 
common  clay  lay  on  the  perfumed  rose,  and  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  rose  entered  into  it,  permeating  it  with 
its  own  fragrance. 

There  is  room  on  that  same  bosom  of  eternal  love 
for  all  who  will  claim  the  place.  How  can  we  find 
the  place  ?  We  are  in  Christ's  bosom  when  we  have 
a  confiding  trust  in  Him;  when  we  believe  in  His 
love  for  us,  and  let  it  flow  about  us  in  all  its  tender- 
ness, loving  Him  in  return.  We  rest  in  that  bosom 
when  we  grow  intimate  with  Jesus,  cultivating  close 
fellowship  and  companionship,  forming  with  Him  a 
real  heart-to-heart  friendship,  until  we  know  no 
other  friend  so  well,  and  love  no  other  friend  so 
much.  We  may  come  into  this  holy  privilege,  living 
always  near  the  heart  of  Christ.  Then  the  effect  on 
our  life  of  such  habitual  reposing  on  Him  will  be  the 
transformation  of  our  character  into  the  gentle  beauty 
of  holy  love.  Lying  on  the  bosom  of  Christ,  we  shall 


100  THE  DISCIPLE  WHOM  JESUS  LOVED. 

grow  like  Christ.  His  life  and  love_  shall  flow  into 
our  heart  and  saturate  all  our  being. 

There  is  another  look  at  this  picture  which  we 
must  take  before  we  turn  away  from  it.  This  time 
it  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  what  heaven  will  be.  The 
ancient  Jews  called  the  home  of  the  blessed  dead, 
"  Abraham's  bosom."  That  was  because  Abraham  was 
the  father  of  the  Jewish  people,  and  the  children 
were  all  gathered  into  the  father's  bosom.  In  a  far 
sweeter,  truer  sense  may  we  speak  of  heaven  as  the 
bosom  of  Christ.  It  is  the  place  of  perfect  com- 
munion. Nothing  will  ever  separate  the  believer 
from  his  Saviour  in  that  home  of  glory. 

We  see,  too,  what  death  is  to  a  Christian — only 
going  up  closer  in  the  bosom  in  which  he  has  lain 
here  on  earth.  Should  any  one  be  afraid  to  creep 
up  into  this  gentle  place  ?  Stephen,  dying,  saw 
Jesus,  and  said,  "Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit." 
St.  Paul  said,  "  To  me  to  die  is  gain."  Dying  is  gain 
to  a  Christian  because  it  is  departing  to  be  with 
Christ.  Let  us  not  dread  to  leave  this  world,  if  we 
are  indeed  Christ's.  It  will  be  changing  only  dim 
faith  for  sight;  the  Friend  whom  having  not  seen 
we  love,  into  face  to  face  with  Him  for  ever. 

There  is  room  on  that  bosom  for  many  more.  It 
is  never  full,  for  the  arms  of  Christ  are  stretched  out 
to  take  in  the  whole  world. 

"  No  father's  house  is  full, 
E'en  though  there  seems  no  resting-place  for  more ; 


THE  DISCIPLE  WHOM  JESUS  LOVED.  101 

Forgiving  arms  and  doors  do  open  wide, 
If  one  repentant  child  implore 
Outside. 

"No  mother's  heart  is  full, 
Unless  it  be  with  longing,  burning,  wild 
Heart-throbbings  that  no  cheerful  face  can  hide— 
The  wish  to  clasp  her  sinning  child 
Outside." 

And  Christ's  bosom  is  never  full.  There  is  room 
for  the  penitent,  room  for  the  wanderer  who  wants 
to  return,  room  for  the  sorrowing  who  seek  soothing 
and  comfort,  room  for  the  old  in  their  feebleness, 
room  for  the  children — room  for  all. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT. 

"  Earth  needs  the  true — 
The  soul  whose  loyal  purpose  is  its  king, 
Whose  every  thought  like  solid  gold  doth  ring, 
Whose  diamond  purity  shows  not  a  flaw, 
Whose  liberty  exults  in  serving  law, 
Which  knows  no  yoke  of  servile  hope  or  fear, 
In  which  no  sordid  greed  doth  e'er  appear, 
Which  is  not  warped  by  vanity  or  pride, 
Which,  loving  God,  seeks  no  reward  beside. 
To  show  God's  mind,  earth  needs  the  true." 

LLBWKLLTN  J.  EVANS. 

FEW  men  have  had  higher  honour  than  that 
which  was  conferred  upon  John  the  Baptist 
in  Christ's  estimate  of  him.  "Among  them  that 
are  born  of  woman  there  hath  not  arisen  a  greater 
than  John  the  Baptist,"  were  the  strong  words  that 
fell  from  the  lips  of  the  Master.  It  was  a  great 
thing  to  have  our  Lord  speak  such  praise.  He  knew 
what  was  in  men,  and  He  never  spoke  an  insincere 
word.  Human  estimates  of  greatness  are  ofttimes 
defective,  sometimes  false.  Men  see  only  the  out- 
ward appearance.  Many  people  are  not  so  great  as 


GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT.  103 

they  seem  to  be.  They  practise  tricks  which  deceive 
the  world.  They  pass  for  great  while  in  reality  they 
are  very  small.  Strip  off  their  gaudy  tinsel,  and  but 
little  would_  be_  left. 

Other  people,  however,  are  greater  than  they  seem. 
They  lack  the  popular  qualities  which  attract  atten- 
tion and  win  applause.  Yet  they  are  great  in  their 
souls  —  great  in  intellectual  qualities,  in  heart-power,  11 
in  the  elements  of  true  manhood,  in  moral  strength. 
But  there  is  an  Eye  that  sees  all  things  as  they  are. 
It  pierces  all  thin  disguises,  penetrates  to  the  core  of 
things,  and  discerns  the  poor  shrivelled  soul  that  is 
hidden  beneath  the  external  glitter.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  sees  in  the  lowly  life,  which  gets  but  little 
praise  of  men,  whose  outer  form  is  homely  and  plain, 
the  true  worth,  the  qualities 


the  character  which  bears  the  marks  of  divinity. 

It  is  well  that  we  sometimes  stop  to  think  how 
we  appear  to  God,  what  God  thinks  of  us.  Goethe 
says:  "There  is  something  in  every  man's  heart, 
which,  if  we  could  know,  would  make  us  hate  him." 
Perhaps  this  is  true;  but  it  is  true  also  that  there 
is  something  in  every  man,  in  even  the  most  repulsive 
man,  which,  if  we  could  know,  would  make  us  love 
him.  As  God  sees  us,  we  are  both  worse  and  better 
than  we  seem  to  any  other  eyes  in  all  the  world. 
He  sees  the  hidden  faults  and  the  secret  stains  ;  He 
sees  also  the  feeble  yearnings  .which  at  length  will  be 
splendid  spiritual  qualities. 


104  GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT. 

The  artist's  picture  is  born  in  his  brain.  At  first 
it  is  only  a  vision,  but  by-and-by  it  stands  on  the 
canvas,  and  thousands  admire  it.  There  are  in  every 
true  heart  noble  dreams  of  beautiful  character — only 
dreams  yet,  faint  visions,  shadowy  aspirations  and 
longings.  These  will  all  at  length  be  realized,  and 
will  stand  on  the  canvas  of  the  life  as  attainments. 
I  love  to  think  of  this  side  of  the  lives  of  my  fellows 
— not  the  poor  stained  fragments  of  being  which  my 
eyes  now  see,  but  what  they  will  be  when  God's 
work  of  grace  in  them  is  finished.  We  are  all  greater 
in  the  possibilities  of  our  lives  than  we  dream  of. 

What  were  some  of  the  elements  in  John  which 
led  Jesus  to  speak  this  wonderful  commendation  of 
him  ?  It  is  well  that  we  should  know,  for  a  char- 
acter so  highly  praised  of  the  Christ  we  may  well 
study  as  a  pattern  for  our  imitation. 

John  was  great  in  his  birth.  A  singular  glory 
hung  over  his  cradle.  An  angel  came  to  the  good 
priest  as  he  ministered  at  the  altar,  announcing  to 
him  that  a  child  should  be  born  in  his  home,  whom 
he  should  call  John,  who  should  bring  to  his  father 
joy  and  gladness.  "  He  shall  be  great  in  the  sight  of 
the  Lord,"  said  the  angel.  But  few  men  have  been 
thus  honoured  before  their  birth  by  angelic  pre- 
announcement  of  their  greatness. 

John  was  great  also  in  his  place  among  the 
prophets.  He  was  the  immediate  forerunner  of 
Christ.  There  was  a  long  succession  of  holy  men 


GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT.  105 

before  John,  all  of  whom  foretold  the  Messiah. 
Abraham  saw  His  day,  but  it  was  then  two  thousand 
years  off.  Moses  foretold  the  coming  of  Christ,  as 
that  greater  Prophet  like  unto  him  whom  the  Lord 
should  send.  David  sang  of  the  glory  of  his  greater 
Son,  who  should  sit  upon  his  throne  for  ever.  Isaiah 
uttered  sublime  prophecies  of  the  Messiah  who 
should  come  to  bring  deliverance ;  whose  name 
should  be  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the  mighty  God, 
the  everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace;  who 
should  bear  His  people's  sins  and  carry  their  sorrows, 
by  whose  stripes  they  should  be  healed.  Zechariah 
foretold  the  place  of  the  Messiah's  birth — the  little 
town  of  Bethlehem — which  should  be  made  great  in 
the  land,  henceforth,  by  this  wonderful  event.  Mal- 
achi,  last  of  the  line  of  prophets  before  John,  spoke 
of  the  Lord  coming  suddenly  to  His  temple,  and  sit- 
ting as  a  refiner  and  purifier  of  silver. 

All  of  these  were  great  men,  highly  honoured  in 
the  line  of  the]  heralds  and  prophets  of  Messiah. 
But  John  was  greater  than  any  of  them,  because  he 
was  the  immediate  forerunner  of  the  Christ.  It  was 
his  privilege  to  go  into  the  wilderness  and  to  call  the 
people  to  prepare  for  the  appearance  of  the  Messiah, 
who  even  then  was  among  them,  though  unrecognized, 
and  who  was  about  to  make  Himself  known  to  them. 
It  was  his  privilege  to  go  close  before  the  Messiah's 
face,  and  make  ready  the  path  for  His  feet.  It  was 
his  privilege,  one  wonderful  day  beside  the  Jordan, 


106  GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT. 

to  baptize  a  young  man,  on  whom  the  Holy  Spirit 
then  descended  in  bodily  form,  like  a  dove,  over 
whom  the  heavens  were  opened,  revealing  a  glimpse 
of  glory,  and  of  whom  a  divine  voice  declared, 
"This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well 
pleased."  It  was  John's  privilege  to  introduce  the 
Messiah  to  the  people  as  the  Lamb  of  God,  and  to 
testify  to  all  men  concerning  His  glory  and  greatness. 
Thus  John  held  the  highest  place  in  the  glorious  line 
of  prophets.  He  was  the  morning  star  which  her- 
alded the  sun. 

John  was  great  also  as  a  preacher.  His  training 
was  peculiar.  He  did  not  attend  the  schools  as  other 
teachers  did.  He  went  away  into  the  wilderness. 
He  lived  as  a  hermit.  He  wore  a  sheepskin  mantle. 
His  hair  and  beard  were  never  cut,  for  he  was  a 
Nazarite.  He  ate  for  his  food  locusts  and  wild 
honey.  Thus  he  lived  in  the  desert,  apart  from  men. 
God  was  his  only  teacher.  In  his  heart  the  great 
truths  of  divine  teaching  burned.  At  length  he 
came  forth  from  his  seclusion  and  began  to  preach. 
For  four  hundred  years — since  the  days  of  Malachi 
— no  prophet's  voice  had  been  heard  speaking  to 
men  from  God.  The  people  were  now  startled  in 
their  spiritual  slumber  by  the  unwonted  tones  which 
fell  upon  their  ears.  No  man  had  ever  spoken  as 
this  strange  man  from  the  desert  spoke.  He  told 
them  of  their  sins.  He  said  the  Messiah  was  coming, 
and  that  he  was  sent  to  prepare  the  way  before  Him. 


GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT.  107 

He  called  them  to  repent,  to  put  away  the  evil  out 
of  their  lives,  to  turn  their  hearts  to  God  for  for- 
giveness, that  they  might  be  ready  to  receive  their 
coming  King. 

John's  public  work  was  short.  The  time  was 
counted  in  months,  but  he  crowded  into  the  brief 
period  an  intensity  of  life  and  utterance  that  changed 
the  moral  history  of  the  world.  Life  is  not  measured 
by  the  number  of  its  years,  but  by  what  one  puts 
into  the  years.  One  day  of  intense  living,  full  of 
tho  Holy  Spirit,  burning  with  love,  is  better  than 
a  whole  year  of  such  mild,  indolent,  lukewarm  living 
as  too  many  of  us  give  to  the  world.  A  young  man 
may  die  at  three-and-thirty,  as  John  did,  as  also  did 
Jesus,  and  yet  leave  impressions  on  the  world's  life 
which  shall  make  all  the  human  story  of  after  years 
mean  more. 

John  was  great  also  as  a  man.  He  was  great 
intellectually.  His  rugged  strength  made  him  tower 
majestically  above  the  men  of  his  day.  To  be  a 
great  preacher,  one  must  first  be  a  great  man — great 
in  all  the  elements  which  belong  to  true  manliness. 
Words  amount  to  little  unless  there  is  a  noble  soul 
behind  them.  It  is  character  that  gives  force  to 
what  a  man  says.  It_is  character  that  impresses 
the  world.  It  is  what  a  man  is  that  makes  his 
atmosphere,  that  breathes  out  in  that  mysterious 
impartation  of  life  which  we  call  influence.  John's 
character  was  great. 


108  GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT. 

Look  at  his  courage.  He  stood  before  the  throngs, 
in  which  were  the  most  learned  and  the  most  power- 
ful of  his  people,  and  told  them  of  their  sins.  He 
did  not  do  it,  either,  in  delicate  and  decorous  phrases, 
but  in  baldest,  plainest  speech.  A  little  later,  when 
Herod  had  committed  a  grievous  offence  against 
purity,  and  against  the  sacredness  of  marriage  and 
the  home,  it  was  John  who  met  him  with  denuncia- 
tion of  his  sin,  John  knew  well  what  he  was  doing. 
He  knew  the  bad  heart  of  Herod,  and  the  wicked 
fury  of  the  woman  who  was  sharer  in  Herod's  sin. 
But  he  faltered  not  in  his  faithfulness  as  a  preacher 
of  truth.  It  cost  him  sorely.  He  was  cast  into  a 
dungeon  in  the  "Black  Fortress,"  where  he  lay  in 
gloom  and  chains.  By-and-by  his  life  was  taken 
from  him  to  gratify  the  vengeance  of  the  woman 
whose  dishonour  he  had  so  faithfully  condemned. 

All  this  was  the  cost  and  consequence  of  his 
fidelity.  But  he  was  never  sorry  for  being  fearless 
and  true.  He  never  regretted  that  he  had  lifted  up 
his  voice  for  righteousness.  It  is  by  such  fidelities 
that  the  cause  of  truth  is  advanced  in  the  world. 
No  matter  that  they  cost  so  much,  that  noble  lives 
perish  in  being  true ;  the  result  is  worth  the  price 
paid.  It  seemed,  indeed,  a  fearful  price  to  pay — the 
quenching  of  this  great  light,  the  brutal  slaughter  of 
this  noble  man,  the  cutting  off  of  this  useful  life  in 
its  very  prime,  the  untimely  ending  of  this  worthy 
career  in  blood — all  as  the  consequence  of  one 


GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT.  109 

faithful  word  spoken  against  sin ;  spoken  in  vain, 
too,  as  it  seemed,  for  apparently  the  reproof  did  no 
good.  "  What  a  waste  ! "  we  are  apt  to  say.  No,  it 
was  not  a  waste.  Herod  and  Herodias  lived  on  in 
their  sinful  relation  as  if  John  had  not  spoken.  But 
John's  testimony  made  the  moral  atmosphere  of  the 
world  a  little  purer.  The  shedding  of  John's  blood 
in  the  dungeon  enriched  the  soil  of  the  earth. 
John's  faithful  testimony  was  not  lost,  but  became 
part  of  the  great  spiritual  force  of  the  world. 
John's  life  was  not  wasted,  though  ending  in  such 
a  tragic  way ;  his  spirit  lives  in  the  world's  life,  his 
soul  is  marching  on. 

Another  fine  thing  in  John's  character  was  his 
utter  self-forgetf ulness.  In  his  great  popularity  the 
people  began  to  think  that  he  was  the  Messiah. 
They  came  to  him  asking  him  if  he  were  not. 
A  weak  and  unscrupulous  man  would  have  ac- 
cepted the  homage.  But  John  instantly  put  it 
away.  "  Oh  no,"  he  said,  "  I  am  not  the  Christ.  I 
am  only  a  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness,  '  Make 
straight  the  way  of  the  Lord.' "  Thus  he  hid  him- 
self out  of  sight,  and  put  honour  upon  the  Messiah 
who  was  to  come. 

All  through  his  ministry  it  was  the  same.  When 
Jesus  came  and  began  to  preach,  the  crowds  melted 
away  from  about  John  and  flocked  to  hear  the 
Galilean  peasant,  whose  gracious  words  were  such 
music  in  their  ears.  Was  it  easy  for  John  to  bear 


110  GREAT  IN  OOD'S  SIGHT. 

this  waning  of  his  own  power  and  popularity,  in  the 
more  winning  attractiveness  of  the  new  preacher  ? 
It  was  very  hard,  but  John's  noble  spirit  endured 
the  test.  When  his  disciples  said  to  him,  "  Teacher, 
He  to  whom  thou  bearest  witness  is  preaching,  and 
all  the  people  are  going  after  Him,"  his  answer  was 
most  beautiful :  "  Ye  yourselves  remember  that  I 
said,  '  I  am  not  the  Christ,  but  only  one  sent  before 
Him.  I  am  the  bridegroom's  friend.  My  joy  is 
fulfilled  in  seeing  Him  honoured.  He  must  increase, 
but  I  must  decrease.' " 

It  is  hard,  when  one  has  been  first,  to  take  a 
second  place.  It  is  hard,  when  one  has  been  the 
centre  of  attraction  for  a  time  in  any  circle,  and 
when  another  comes  in  and  takes  the  favoured  place, 
for  the  former  to  yield  gracefully  and  keep  sweet. 
It  is  hard,  when  one  has  led  for  a  time  in  some 
important  work,  to  step  down  into  obscurity  and  yet 
continue  to  work  there  as  faithfully  and  earnestly  as 
before,  while  another  fills  the  old  place.  Few  tests 
of  character  are  sorer  than  this.  The  man  who  will 
do  his  work  only  when  he  is  in  a  prominent  position, 
and  who  will  sulk  if  asked  to  work  in  an  obscure 
place,  lacks  one  element  of  the  finest  manliness. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  hardest  instrument  to 
play  in  all  the  orchestra  is  the  second  violin.  Yet 
somebody  must  play  it,  and  he  must  be  a  good 
player,  too.  The  hardest  places  to  fill  in  all  the 
relations  of  life  are  the  second  places ;  yet  they  must 


GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT.  Ill 

be  filled,  and  well  filled  too,  with  those  who  can  do 
beautiful  work.  Blessed  are  those  who  will  do  their 
duty,  and  do  it  well  and  sweetly,  wherever  they  may 
be  appointed  to  stand.  We  are  working  for  God's 
eye,  and  the  most  conspicuous  workers,  as  He  sees 
them,  are  those  who  do  their  part  the  most  con- 
scientiously and  the  most  cheerfully,  even  without 
praise  or  recognition.  Jesus  said  that  those  who 
serve  the  best  are  greatest  in  His  kingdom. 

Having  spoken  with  such  unstinted  praise  of  John, 
Jesus  said  further,  "  Yet  he  that  is  but  little  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  greater  than  he."  Evidently, 
He  did  not  mean  that  in  all  the  elements  of  great- 
ness the  weakest  Christian  is  superior  to  the  Baptist. 
He  was  speaking  of  the  two  dispensations.  John 
was  greatest  in  the  old.  But  Christ,  by  His  life, 
teachings,  death,  and  resurrection,  lifted  humanity 
to  a  loftier  height  than  it  had  ever  held  before.  He 
revealed  the  love  of  God,  the  fatherhood  of  God,  and 
the  privilege  of  divine  childship,  for  every  penitent 
soul.  The  least  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  sharer 
in  all  heaven's  blessedness.  We  do  not  realize  what 
exaltation  the  grace  of  Christ  brings  to  a  Christian. 
Wonderful  are  the  possibilities  of  life  in  Christ  If 
we  only  understood  how  great  we  may  become,  it 
would  fire  our  souls  with  zeal  and  earnestness,  and 
impel  us  to  grandest,  loftiest  flights. 

A  recent  writer  puts  solemn  truths  in  the  form  of 
a  dream.  He  dreamed  that  he  died  and  a  spirit 


112  GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT. 

guide  led  him  toward  the  bar  of  God.  He  saw 
before  him  what  seemed  the  form  of  a  man,  having 
marvellous  beauty,  grace,  and  strength.  In  every 
feature  nobleness  and  worth  were  traced.  His  guide 
asked  him  who  he  thought  it  was.  "  Jesus,"  he 
answered,  almost  overcome  with  awe.  "No,"  said 
the  guide ;  "  not  Jesus,  but  thyself."  "  Myself ! "  he 
replied,  thinking  his  guide  was  only  trifling.  "  Yes," 
said  the  guide,  "thyself — what  thou  mightest  have 
been  if  thou  hadst  always  obeyed  the  still  small 
voice." 

Then  he  saw  spread  out  before  him  a  panorama 
of  his  life,  showing  him  every  point  at  which  he 
had  chosen  the  wrong  way.  He  saw  what  he  had 
missed,  and  how  he  had  missed  it.  Here  was  what 
he  might  have  been. 

The  next  night  he  dreamed  again.  Again  he  was 
led  into  the  divine  presence,  and  a  form  appeared ; 
but  oh,  how  different  from  the  one  he  had  seen  the 
night  before !  All  that  was  evil  seemed  to  live  in 
the  features.  He  hated  and  loathed  the  wretch  as 
his  enemy.  "  Who  is  it  ? "  asked  the  guide.  "  Satan," 
he  answered — "  Satan,  the  father  of  lies,  the  prince  of 
all  evil."  "  Nay,"  cried  the  guide,  "  it  is  thyself."  He 
was  indignant.  "  Yes ;  it  is  thyself — what  thou  shalt 
be,  that  toward  which  thou  art  tending."  Again  all 
his  life  swept  before  him,  and  he  saw  the  end,  the 
culmination,  the  ripeness,  of  all  the  selfish  and  wrong 
choices  he  had  made,  of  all  the  bad  feelings,  appetites, 


GREAT  IN  GOD'S  SIGHT.  113 

and  passions  he  had  cherished.  It  was  a  vision  of 
what  a  sinful  life  will  come  to  at  the  last. 

Before  each  human  life  are  these  two  same  possi- 
bilities, as  far  apart  as  heaven  and  hell.  In  Christ 
we  may  grow  into  all  strength,  nobleness,  and  beauty. 
If  we  live  apart  from  Christ,  we  shall  see  ourselves 
at  last  hideous  in  all  sin's  awful  fruitage  and  harvest 
— saint,  wearing  Christ's  image,  all  the  nobleness  of 
true  manhood,  all  the  beauty  of  holiness ;  or  demon, 
bearing  the  outworking  of  all  vileness,  curse,  and 
unholiness. 

Behold  that  form  of  radiant  loveliness  that  rises 
before  you  as  you  think  of  Jesus.  All  nobleness  is 
in  the  features.  All  manly  qualities  shine  in  the 
character.  There  is  no  spot,  no  blemish.  How 
rich,  how  beautiful,  how  radiant  is  the  life !  Who  is 
it  ?  It  is  yourself — what  you  may  become  in  Jesus 
Christ 


(538 


CHAPTER  X. 

POSSIBILITIES  OF  FKIENDSHIP. 

"  We  live  together  years  and  years, 

And  leave  unsounded  still 
Each  other's  springs  of  hopes  and  fears, 

Each  other's  depths  of  will ; 
We  live  together  day  by  day, 

And  some  chance  look  or  tone 
Lights  up  with  instantaneous  ray 

An  inner  world  unknown." — HoUGHTON. 

THE  subject  of  friendship  never  wears  out. 
Human  hearts  are  the  same  in  all  ages.  We 
all  need  love.  There  is  a  story  of  a  captive  in  the 
Bastile,  long  immured  in  a  lonely  dungeon,  whose 
heart,  craving  friendship  in  some  form,  found  it  in  a 
little  spider  which  was  in  his  cell.  Even  Jesus  felt 
the  need  of  human  friendship,  His  heart  reaching  out 
for  sympathy  and  companionship.  There  is  no  one 
who  does  not  need  friends.  The  busier  one  is,  the 
more  one  is  living  for  others,  the  richer,  deeper,  and 
purer  one's  life  is,  the  more  does  one  need  a  friend, 
or  a  few  friends,  in  whose  shelter  to  rest,  from  whose 
sympathy  to  draw  strength  and  renewal.  Friendship 


POSSIBILITIES  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  115 

is  one  of  the  earliest  cravings  of  the  new-born  life, 
and  one  of  the  latest  to  die;  infancy  and  old  age 
alike  hunger  for  love. 

"  I  watched  a  youth  and  maiden  by  the  sea : 

The  white  foam  dashed  upon  the  rocks  in  spray, 
As  sportive  as  fair  children  at  their  play : 
It  kissed  her  cheek  and  brow,  from  care  as  free 
As  birds  in  summer :  smiling  tenderly, 
He  took  her  hand  in  his  in  manly  way. 
The  picture  lingered  with  me  many  a  day ; 
4  Youth  is  the  time  of  love,'  it  said  to  me. 

"  I  watched  them  later,  when  the  youth  had  grown 

To  man's  estate,  and  little  ones  were  led 
By  gentle  hands.     Her  face  with  gladness  shone. 
1  Ah  !  manhood  is  the  time  to  love,'  I  said. 
Sweet  love  I  without  thee  age  itself  were  lone ; 
Life  and  eternity  by  love  are  wed." 

It  is  important  that  the  friends  we  have  shall  be 
true  and  worthy.  It  is  better  to  live  in  solitariness 
all  one's  days  than  to  take  into  one's  life  a  friend 
who  is  not  good,  whose  influence  will  mar  and  soil 
one's  purity  of  soul. 

There  are  many  helpful  hints  in  the  beautiful 
friendship  of  Jonathan  for  David  for  those  who  are 
choosing  friends. 

It  was  a  disinterested  friendship.  Jonathan  was 
the  king's  son.  What  could  the  shepherd-boy  do  for 
the  prince  ?  What  advantage  could  come  to  Jonathan 
from  having  this  country  lad  for  a  friend  ?  Jonathan 
was  rich,  high  in  rank,  and  older  than  David.  There 


116  POSSIBILITIES  OF  FRIENDSHIP. 

was  no  possible  benefit  that  might  come  to  him  from 
having  the  ruddy  youth  for  a  friend.  Had  it  been 
David  who  desired  to  make  Jonathan  his  friend,  it 
would  not  have  seemed  such  a  disinterested  affection, 
for  the  king's  son  might  be  of  great  advantage  to  the 
ambitious  shepherd-boy.  As  it  was,  however,  the 
friendship  was  entirely  unselfish  and  disinterested. 
Jonathan  loved  David  for  David's  own  sake.  His 
eyes  saw  in  the  blushing  lad  beauty,  nobleness,  ex- 
cellency of  character,  true  bravery  of  soul,  the  ele- 
ments of  fine  manhood,  the  germs  of  all  those  traits 
which,  later  in  the  story,  shine  out  in  such  splendour 
in  David. 

Disinterestedness  is  a  quality  of  all  true  friendship. 
There  are  many  people  who  will  be  your  friends 
when  they  see  some  advantage  in  it  for  themselves. 
They  cling  to  you  with  intense  devotion  when  you 
can  give  them  pleasure,  help  them  toward  the  achiev- 
ing of  their  ambition,  or  be  of  advantage  to  them  in 
some  way.  This  is  the  world's  friendship.  It  seeks, 
not  you,  but  yours.  It  is  very  sad  to  see  one  deceived 
by  such  friendship,  giving  the  trusting  love  and 
confidence  of  a  loyal  heart  into  the  icy  clutches  of 
such  unworthy  selfishness. 

If  you  would  have  a  friendship  that  will  never 
fail  you,  that  will  be  true  through  all  dark  hours, 
that  will  come  only  the  nearer  to  you  in  adversity, 
seek  for  a  friend  who  cares  for  you  for  yourself, 
whose  friendship  is  disinterested  and  unselfish. 


POSSIBILITIES  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  117 

Jonathan's  friendship  was  faithful  It  would  not 
have  seemed  strange  that  in  the  moment  of  David's 
victory  Jonathan  admired  him  and  was  drawn  to 
him.  Generous  natures  are  always  charmed  by 
noble  deeds  in  others.  Many  sudden  friendships, 
however,  are  short-lived.  Many  young  people  form 
attachments  of  this  sort,  which  unclasp  amid  the 
toils,  struggles,  ambitions,  hardships,  and  trials  of 
real  life.  It  was  the  glory  of  Jonathan's  friendship 
for  David  that  it  stood  the  test  of  most  trying 
experiences.  It  soon  became  apparent  that  David 
was  the  nation's  idol.  The  people  sang : — 

"  Saul  hath  slain  his  thousands, 
And  David  his  ten  thousands." 

It  was  this  that  turned  Saul's  friendship  for  David 
to  bitter  hate.  But  Jonathan's  friendship  stood  the 
test.  He  was  willing  to  see  his  friend  exalted  to 
honour,  though  that  honour  eclipsed  himself.  Soon 
Jonathan  knew  that  the  friend  he  had  taken  to  his 
heart  was  to  sit  on  the  throne  that  was  his  by  right 
of  succession.  Yet  even  this  did  not  affect  the 
friendship  of  his  loyal  heart.  He  loved  David  so 
that  he  rejoiced  in  David's  exaltation  over  himself. 
"  Thou  shalt  be  king,  and  I  shall  be  next  unto  thee," 
he  said,  with  loving  pride.  He  knew  that  David 
had  never  sought  the  crown,  but  that  it  was  by 
God's  will  that  it  was  to  be  his ;  and  he  bowed  in 
submission,  and  was  glad.  The  world  has  never 
shown  anything,  even  in  friendship,  finer  than  this. 


118  POSSIBILITIES  OF  FRIENDSHIP. 

There  was  another  test.  Enemies  of  David  sought 
by  misrepresentation  and  calumnies  to  destroy  Jona- 
than's regard  for  him.  Saul  himself  darkly  hinted 
that  there  was  treachery  in  David  toward  Jonathan. 
Yet  even  these  calumnies  did  not  start  in  Jonathan's 
mind  a  shadow  of  doubt  concerning  David.  J3n  the 
other  hand,  he  bravely  defended  his  friend  in  his 
absence.  He  sought  to  conciliate  his  father,  assuring 
him  of  David's  sincerity,  recounting  his  noble  deeds. 
He  even  imperilled  his  own  life  in  pleading  with  his 
father  for  his  friend.  Thus  in  all  its  testings  Jona- 
than's friendship  was  proved  constant. 

Jonathan's  friendship  was  helpful.  There  is  friend- 
ship that  is  fine  in  sentiment,  lavish  in  compliment, 
profuse  in  words,  but  that  never  proves  its  sincerity 
by  real  helpfulness.  Jonathan  showed  his  friendship 
for  David  in  many  practical  ways.  He  defended  him 
in  his  absence.  He  secured  his  escape  from  Saul's 
plot.  He  helped  him  in  his  lonely  exile,  by  faithful- 
ness, by  encouragement,  by  personal  kindness. 

Helpfulness  belongs  to  all  true  friendship.  Its 
central  desire  is  not  to  get,  but  to  give;  not  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister.  Friendship  can  be 
formed  on  no  other  basis.  Ordinarily  it  is  in  little 
ways  that  friendship's  richest  help  is  given.  There 
may  come  times  when  it  will  cost  most  deeply  to  be 
a  friend.  Misfortune  knows  no  rank,  and  the  most 
prosperous  may  be  in  straits  through  which  only 
munificent  help  can  carry  them ;  and  then  friendship 


POSSIBILITIES  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  119 

must  not  fail,  whatever  the  cost  may  be.  For  the 
greater  part,  however,  the  help  we  need  from  our 
friends  is  not  money,  not  anything  that  costs  much. 
We  are  not  suitors  for  charity.  We  do  not  want  our 
friends  to  carry  our  burdens  for  us,  unless  we  are 
actually  fainting  under  them.  No  noble  person 
wants  a  friend  to  do  for  him  that  which  he  can  do 
for  himself. 

But  we  all  need  and  crave  sympathy,  human  kind- 
ness, cheer,  fellowship,  as  we  go  along  life's  dusty 
road.  This  small  coin  of  love  is  the  brightener  of 
every  life  that  is  blessed  by  a  rich  friendship. 

Another  thing  about  this  friendship  was,  that  it 
had  a  religious  basis.  Both  of  these  men  loved  God, 
and  believed  in  Him.  Three  different  times  they 
made  solemn  covenant  together,  appealing  to  God  to 
ratify  their  covenant.  Friendships  should  always  be 
knit  with  a  threefold  cord — two_  human  hearts  and 
God.  True  friendship  binds  hearts  and  lives  together 
in  virtue,  in  purity,  in  honesty,  in  godliness.  When 
a  professed  friend  wants  you  to  join  him  in  sin,  flee 
from  him.  Young  people  should  seek  as  their  friends 
those  who  love  God  and  follow  Christ,  those  whom 
they  will  want  beside  them  when  they  are  dying. 
We  should  choose  friends  whom  we  can  take  into 
every  part  of  our  life,  into  every  closest  communion, 
into  every  holy  joy,  into  all  consecration  and  service, 
into  every  hope,  and  between  whom  and  us  there 
shall  never  be  a  point  at  which  we  shall  not  be  in 


120  POSSIBILITIES  OF  FRIENDSHIP. 

sympathy.  We  are  too  apt  to  let  our  friendships  be 
dependent  on  the  drift  of  life  about  us.  We  keep 
open  door,  like  the  street  car,  to  give  hospitality  to 
all  who  come.  We  do  not  always  choose  our  friends. 
This  is  not  dealing  justly  with  ourselves.  We  must 
be  courteous  to  every  one  we  meet,  but  we  may  not 
make  every  neighbour  a  friend.  Jesus  prayed  all 
night  before  He  chose  his  twelve.  We  should  never 
make  a  friendship  over  which  we  have  not  prayed. 
We  ought  to  accept  only  the  friendships  that  will 
bring  blessing  to  our  life,  that  will  enrich  our  char- 
acter, that  will  stimulate  us  to  better  and  holier 
things,  that  will  weave  threads  of  silver  and  gold  into 
our  web  of  life,  and  whose  every  influence  upon  us 
will  be  a  lasting  benediction. 

1     "  Thy  friend  will  come  to  thee  unsought ; 
With  nothing  can  his  love  be  bought ; 
His  soul  thine  own  will  know  at  sight ; 
With  him  thy  heart  can  speak  outright. 
Greet  him  nobly ;  love  him  well ; 
Show  him  where  thy  best  thoughts  dwell ; 
Trust  him  greatly  and  for  aye : 
A  true  friend  comes  but  once  thy  way." 

There  is  a  holy,  invigorating,  stimulating  influence, 
like  an  atmosphere,  that  belongs  to  every  true  friend- 
ship. It  is  harder  to  do  wrong  and  easier  to  do 

M.  ^~——*~^*~^~»^~mm-,  ,  i     m,         •••••^••••.H^MCkMi^MM^B^-^— •*KMa<ni*H^B"M*~*->Mi^>" 

right,  when  we  have  a  friend  who  believes  in  us  and 
expects  beautiful  things  of  us.  A  pure,  rich  friend- 
ship is  like  warm  spring  sunshine,  as  its  glances  fall 
upon  our  life.  Whatever  possibilities  of  good  there 


POSSIBILITIES  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  121 

are  in  our  life  are  encouraged  and  drawn  out  by  the 
nourishing  warmth  of  a  rich  and  worthy  friendship. 
There  are  noble  and  beautiful  lives  which  owe  all 
they  are  to  a  pure,  inspiring  friendship.  Comrades 
discovered  a  picture  of  a  fair  face  in  the  pocket  of  a 
young  soldier  whom  they  found  dead  on  the  front 
line  of  the  advance.  Then  they  knew  the  secret  of 
his  bravery. 

"  What  is  the  secret  of  your  life  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Browning  of  Charles  Kingsley.  "Tell  me,  that  I 
may  make  mine  beautiful,  too."  His  reply  was,  'jj[ 
had  a  friend."  She  who  came  into  his  life  in  early 
youth  as  wife  and  friend,  by  the  impact  of  her  noble 
soul  on  his,  inspired  and  built  up  in  him  a  manhood 
than  which  none  more  royal  ever  grew  on  this  earth. 
Let  the  woman  who  accepts  the  holy  place  of  wife 
learn  what  power  is  hers,  what  she  may  do  for  the 
man  who  has  chosen  her  from  among  all  women,  if 
only  she  rises  to  the  full  dignity  and  glory  of  her 
privilege. 

True  friendship  is  immortal.  The  friend  may  go 
away  out  of  your  sight,  but  does  not,  cannot,  go  out 
of  your  life.  You  may  be  separated  by  continents 
or  by  oceans,  but  your  friend  is  with  you  so  long  as 
loyal  affection  dwells  in  your  heart.  Every  memory 
of  him  is  precious,  and  stirs  its  own  proper  emotion. 
Even  death  does  not  take  him  out  of  your  life.  It 
is  a  strange  power  that  death  has.  It  sweeps  away 
the  faults  and  blemishes,  and  brings  out  the  shy 


122  POSSIBILITIES  OF  FRIENDSHIP. 

beauties,  the  half -forgotten  tendernesses,  the  hitherto 
unrecognized  loveliness ;  and  we  see  our  friend  now 
at  his  best,  his  true  self,  no  longer  in  the  dim  light 
of  human  passion,  but  in  the  warm  glow  of  love. 
Many  a  time  our  friends  are  more  to  us  when  they 
have  gone  from  us  into  heaven  than  ever  they  were 
when  they  walked  with  us  in  the  midst  of  earth's 
strifes,  competitions,  envyings,  and  rivalries.  Their 
influence  over  us  abides  perpetually.  The  impressions 
they  made  upon  us  when  they  were  with  us  stay  for 
ever  as  part  of  our  character.  Everything  they  ever 
touched  is  sacred. 

"  Where  thou  hast  touched,  O  wondrous  death  ! 

Where  thou  hast  come  between, 
Lo,  there  for  ever  perisheth 
The  common  and  the  mean. 

"  No  little  flaw  or  trivial  speck 

Doth  any  more  appear, 
And  cannot,  from  this  time,  to  fleck 
Love's  perfect  image  clear. 

"  Clear  stands  love's  perfect  image  now, 

And  shall  do  evermore ; 
And  we  in  awe  and  wonder  bow 
The  glorified  before." 

One  tells  how  he  saw  in  the  private  treasury  of 
Windsor  Castle  a  great  gold  peacock  sparkling  with 
rubies,  emeralds,  and  diamonds,  which  had  been 
brought  away  from  some  rajah's  palace;  and  close 
by  it  a  common  quill  pen  and  a  bit  of  serge  dis- 
coloured. The  pen  had  signed  some  important  treaty; 


POSSIBILITIES  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  123 

the  bit  pf  serge  was  the  fragment  of  a  flag  that  had 
waved  over  some  hard-fought  field.  The  two  to- 
gether were  worth  a  halfpenny,  but  they  held  their 
ground  beside  the  jewels ;  for  they  meant  successful 
effort  and  heroic  devotion  for  the  interests  of  the 
kingdom,  and  therefore  were  laid  up  in  the  treasure- 
house  of  royalty.  So  it  is  with  the  holy  and  sacred 
mementos  of  friendship.  You  may  have  things  of 
great  money  value  in  your  house ;  but  if  there  is  an 
old  letter,  a  book,  or  a  flower  which  the  dead  hand 
plucked,  or  some  most  trifling  thing  that  belonged  to 
the  friend  now  in  heaven,  it  is  easy  to  tell  what,  in 
the  list  of  your  treasures,  you  prize  most  highly. 

We  can  never  lose  a  friend.  His  touches  on  our 
life  will  never  fade  out.  His  words  will  stay  always 
in  our  heart.  The  impressions  he  made  upon  us  will 
never  be  effaced.  When  he  came  into  our  life,  and 
the  friendship  grew  up  between  him  and  us,  the 
threads  of  his  being  became  inextricably  entangled 
with  the  threads  of  our  being,  and  they  never  more 
can  be  disentangled.  The  bonds  of  friendship  are 
inalienable.  Lucy  Larcom  writes : — 

"  What  is  the  beat  a  friend  can  be 
To  any  soul,  to  you  or  me  ? 
Not  only  shelter,  comfort,  rest — 
Inmost  refreshment  unexpressed ; 
Not  only  a  beloved  guide 
To  tread  life's  labyrinth  at  our  side, 
Or  with  love's  torch  lead  on  before ; — 
Though  these  be  much,  there  yet  is  more. 


124  POSSIBILITIES  OF  FRIENDSHIP. 

"  The  best  friend  is  an  atmosphere 
Warm  with  all  inspirations  dear, 
Wherein  we  breathe  the  large,  free  breath 
Of  life  that  hath  no  taint  of  death. 
Our  friend  is  an  unconscious  part 
Of  every  true  beat  of  our  heart ; 
A  strength,  a  growth,  whence  we  derive 
God's  health,  that  keeps  the  world  alive. 

/"  The  best  friend  is  horizon,  too,       j 
Lifting  unseen  things  into  view,    / 
And  widening  every  petty  claim 
Till  lost  in  some  sublimer  aim ; 
Blending  all  barriers  in  the  great 
Infinities  that  round  us  wait. 
Friendship  is  an  eternity 
Where  soul  with  BOU!  walks,  heavenly  free. 

"  Can  friend  lose  friend?    Believe  it  not. 
The  tissue  whereof  life  is  wrought, 
Weaving  the  separate  into  one, 
Nor  end  hath,  nor  beginning ;  spun 
From  subtle  threads  of  destiny, 
Finer  than  thought  of  man  can  see. 
God  takes  not  back  his  gifts  divine ; 
While  thy  soul  lives,  thy  friend  is  thine. 

"  If  but  one  friend  have  crossed  thy  way, 
Once  only,  in  thy  mortal  day ; 
If  only  once  life's  best  surprise 
Have  opened  on  thy  human  eyes, 
Ingrate  thou  wert,  indeed,  if  thoa 
Didst  not  in  that  rare  presence  bow ; 
And  on  earth's  holy  ground,  unshod, 
Speak  softlier  the  dear  name  of  God." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PRAYING  FOR  OUR  FRIENDS. 

"  Yes,  pray  for  whom  thou  lovest ;  if  uncounted  wealth  were  thine, 
The  treasure!  of  the  boundless  deep,  the  riches  of  the  mine, 
Thou  couldst  not  to  thy  cherished  friends  a  gift  so  dear  impart 
As  the  earnest  benediction  of  a  deeply  prayerful  heart." 

IT  is  good  to  pray  for  one's  friends.  Indeed,  the 
friendship  that  does  not  pray  is  lacking  in  one 
of  its  most  sacred  elements.  We  have  also  a  good 
index  of  the  character  of  the  friendship  in  the  things 
that  one  asks  for  one's  friends.  To  seek  for  them 
only  earthly  blessings  is  to  miss  friendship's  highest 
privilege,  which  is  to  call  down  Heaven's  benedictions 
upon  them. 

It  is  interesting  to  study  St.  Paul's  prayers  for  his 
friends.  His  prayer  for  the  Philippians  may  be  taken 
as  an  example.  He  does  not  ask  that  they  may  have 
more  of  this  world's  good  things,  that  they  may  be 
prospered  in  business,  but  he  asks  for  them  those 
things  that  will  enrich  their  spiritual  life  and 
character. 

He  asks  that  their  love  may  abound  yet  more  and 


126  PRAYING  FOB  OUR  FRIENDS. 

more.  Without  love  there  is  no  Christian  life.  To 
live  truly  at  all  is  to  love.  Love  is  perfect  tense  of 
live — at  least  spiritually,  if  not  grammatically.  No 
one  can  be  a  Christian  and  not  have  love.  In  all  the 
cordage  of  the  British  naval  service  there  is  a  red 
thread  twisted,  which  cannot  be  taken  out  without 
undoing  the  whole.  Wherever,  in  any  part  of  the 
world,  even  a  fragment  of  British  cordage  is  found, 
it  has  this  mark — the  red  thread.  So  Christian 
character,  wherever  found,  in  whatsoever  country, 
has  in  it  the  red  cord  of  love.  Not  to  have  love  is 
not  to  be  a  Christian.  All  Christian  duty  is  summed 
up  in  loving — loving  God  and  our  neighbour. 

The  prayer  of  St.  Paul  is  that  this  love  may 
abound  yet  more  and  more.  It  is  not  enough  to 
have  a  little  love  in  the  heart,  a  feeble,  trickling 
spring,  bubbling  up,  and  sending  out  tiny  rills  and 
streamlets  of  affection.  Love  in  us  should  be  like  a 
river.  Our  life  should  be  rich  in  its  gentleness,  its 
patience,  its  charity,  its  long-suffering,  its  forgiveness, 
its  serving.  We  want  a  love  that  does  not  count  its 
forgivings  seven  times,  but  forgives  seventy  times 
seven  times.  We  want  a  love  that  is  kind,  not 
merely  to  those  who  show  kindness,  but  also  to  those 
who  are  unkind.  We  want  a  love  that  loves  on 
when  grieved  and  hurt ;  that  does  good  in  return  for 
evil  and  hatred;  that  teaches  us  to  pray  for  those 
who  despitefully  use  us.  We  want  a  love  that  is 
unaffected  by  men's  cruel  treatment ;  that  pours  out 


PRAYING  FOR  OUR  FRIENDS.  127 

its  gentleness  and  goodness  upon  evil  and  good;  that 
in  the  enduring  of  personal  injury  is  like  the  lake 
which,  when  ploughed  by  the  cleaving  keel,  instantly 
heals  its  own  hurt,  and  is  calm  &nd  smooth  again. 
We  want  a  love  that  abounds  in  service,  forgetting 
itself,  giving,  sacrificing  unto  the  uttermost,  to  bless 
others.  We  want  a  love  which  beareth  all  things 
and  never  faileth.  We  may  never  "say,  even  after 
the  highest  achievements  of  loving,  "I  have  now 
reached  my  ideal  of  unselfishness,  of  patience,  of 
gentleness,  of  serving.  I  have  now  done  my  share 
for  other  people.  I  will  take  no  more  burdens  on 
me.  I  will  wear  myself  out  no  more  in  serving." 
Our  love  is  to  abound  yet  more  and  more. 

St.  Paul  prayed  that  the  love  of  his  friends  might 
abound  yet  more  and  more  in  knowledge.  Love 
without  knowledge  is  mere  emotion,  which  soon  dies 
out.  We  must  know  God  to  love  Him  truly.  The 
reason  so  many  do  not  love  God  is  because  they  do 
not  know  Him.  This  suggests  the  importance  of  a 
continual  growth  in  knowledge  of  God.  How  can 
we  get  this  knowledge  ?  How  do  we  get  to  know 
a  human  friend  better  ?  Is  it  not  by  meeting  him 
often;  by  talking  with  him  to  learn  his  thoughts 
and  feelings ;  by  watching  his  acts  to  learn  the  mode 
of  his  life ;  by  observing  his  disposition  and  bearing 
to  discover  his  spirit  ?  How  else  can  we  get  to  know 
God  better?  If  we  never  meet  with  Him,  if  we 
never  talk  with  Him,  if  we  never  study  His  Word, 


128  PRATING  FOR  OUR  FRIENDS. 

if  we  never  observe  His  ways,  how  can  we  ever 
know  Him  ?  The  Bible  reveals  God.  It  unfolds  His 
character  and  tells  us  what  are  His  thoughts  toward 
us,  what  is  His  will  for  us.  Study  the  Book  if  you 
would  know  God. 

Jesus  was  called  the  Word.  A  word  reveals 
thought.  A  thought  lies  in  the  depths  of  your  soul, 
and  no  one  can  read  it.  Then  you  speak,  and  the 
thought  is  made  known.  In  the  depths  of  God's 
being  lay  the  mystery  of  His  love,  grace,  and  truth. 
Men  could  not  know  it.  No  one  by  searching  could 
find  out  God.  Then  Jesus  came,  the  Word,  revealing 
the  thoughts  that  were  in  the  mind  of  the  Father. 
God  laid  bare  His  heart  in  Christ.  Know  Jesus,  and 
you  will  know  God.  Then  knowing  God  better, 
your  love  for  Him  will  abound  more  and  more. 

We  stand  on  the  mere  edge  of  a  great  ocean  of 
knowledge  as  we  seek  to  learn  of  God.  We  can  get, 
at  the  best,  only  little  fragments  of  knowledge  of 
Him.  Spain  used  to  stamp  on  her  coins  the  two 
pillars  of  Hercules,  the  two  great  promontories  of 
rock  at  Gibraltar,  casting  over  the  figures  a  scroll 
bearing  the  words,  Ne  plus  ultra — "No  more  be- 
yond." She  fancied  that  there  were  no  lands  beyond 
those  rocks.  But  one  day  a  bold  spirit  sailed  far 
away  beyond  these  pillars  of  Hercules,  and  discovered 
a  new  world.  Then  Spain  wisely  changed  her  coins, 
striking  off  the  word  Ne,  leaving  Plus  ultra — "  More 
beyond."  Some  of  us  may  have  been  fancying  that 


PRAYING  FOR  OUR  FRIENDS.  129 

we  know  all  of  God  there  is  to  be  known  in  this 
world.  But  out  beyond  our  little  Ne  plus  ultra 
there  lies  a  vast  continent  of  knowledge  of  Him. 
We  may  study  theology,  the  science  of  God,  for  ages, 
and  still  we  shall  only  begin  to  know  Him. 

Then  the  more  we  know  of  God  and  love  Him, 
the  more  shall  we  love  our  fellow-men.  For  true 
human  love  is  only  the  lesson  of  God's  love  learned. 
We  only  try  to  think  our  God's  love  thoughts. 
Jesus  commands  us  to  love  each  other  as  He  loves 
us.  It  is  only  as  we  learn  how  Christ  loves  us  that 
we  know  how  to  love  one  another.  All  our  lessons 
in  loving  we  must  get  from  Him.  We  must  know 
Christ's  patience  before  we  can  be  patient,  Christ's 
gentleness  before  we  can  be  gentle,  Christ's  way  of 
forgiving  before  we  can  truly  forgive. 

There  is  a  mediaeval  legend  of  a  priest  who  knocked 
one  day  at  a  peasant's  door  and  found  his  king  seated 
at  meat  at  the  peasant's  table.  He  was  greatly  sur- 
prised, and  expressed  fear  as  to  the  effect  of  such 
condescension.  "  But,"  answered  the  king,  "  do  we 
not  meet  as  brothers — this  peasant  and  I — about  the 
table  of  a  common  Lord,  yonder  where  you  minister  ? 
And  if  I  own  that  brotherhood  so  freely  there,  should 
I  not  sometimes  own  it  elsewhere?"  The  king's 
answer  contained  love's  lesson  for  us.  We  are  all 
one  in  Christ — rich  and  poor,  great  and  small,  refined 
and  unrefined — and  we  should  be  one  in  life  and 
spirit  everywhere. 

(538)  9 


130        PRAYING  FOR  OUR  FRIENDS. 

Another  of  St.  Paul's  prayers  is  that  his  friends 
may  approve  the  things  that  are  excellent.  We 
must  be  always  making  selections  in  this  world. 
We  cannot  take  up  everything  that  lies  in  our  path, 
and  we  ought  to  choose  the  best  things.  Even 
among  right  things  there  is  room  for  choice,  for  some 
right  things  are  better  than  others.  There  are  a 
great  many  good  people,  however,  who  choose  habit- 
ually not  the  best  things,  but  second-rate  things. 
They  labour  for  the  bread  that  perisheth,  when  they 
might  labour  for  the  meat  that  endureth  unto  ever- 
lasting life.  Even  in  their  prayers  they  ask  for 
temporal  blessings,  when  they  might  ask  for  spiritual 
gifts  and  treasures.  They  are  like  the  man  with 
the  muck-rake,  who  drags  his  implement  among  the 
weeds  and  worthless  rubbish,  while  over  his  head 
are  crowns  that  he  might  take  into  his  hands.  They 
are  moved  in  their  choices  by  lower  instead  of  higher 
considerations.  They  sell  heavenly  birthrights  for 
mere  messes  of  pottage.  They  toil  for  this  world's 
things  when  they  might  have  been  laying  up  trea- 
sures in  heaven. 

We  have  only  one  life  to  live ;  we  ought  therefore 
to  do  the  best  poasible  with  it.  We  pass  through 
this  world  only  once;  we  ought  to  gather  up  and 
take  with  us  the  things  that  will  truly  enrich  us — 
things  we  can  keep  for  ever.  "  Only  the  eternal 
is  important,"  is  the  inscription  engraved  over  the 
doorway  of  the  cathedral  of  Milan.  It  is  not  worth 


PRAYING  FOB  OUR  FRIENDS.  131 

our  while  to  toil  and  moil  and  strive  and  struggle  to 
do  things  that  will  leave  no  results  when  life  is 
done,  while  there  are  things  we  can  do  which  are 
not  in  vain. 

What,  then,  are  the  things  that  are  excellent  ?  All 
Christian  kindness  is  excellent.  It  leaves  results  in 
this  world,  in  other  lives — results  which  will  outlast 
time.  The  words  which  you  speak  in  love  and  truth 
into  other  hearts  will  never  perish.  The  poet  found 
his  song,  long,  long  after  it  had  been  sung,  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  in  the  heart  of  his  friend.  So  will 
it  be  with  every  word  spoken  and  every  song  sung 
for  Christ ;  some  day  we  shall  find  them  all  in  some 
heart.  Christian  service  is  among  the  excellent 
things  which  we  should  choose.  Idleness  is  cursed. 
It  produces  death  in  the  idler.  Work  blesses  the 
world  and  blesses  him  who  works. 

Noble  character  is  excellent.  Some  one  says: 
"  The  only  thing  that  walks  back  from  the  tomb 
with  the  mourners,  and  refuses  to  be  buried,  is  char-  / 

*~ ™~™l"*'""'""""""""'"""""2"  / 

/  acter."  This  is  true.  What  a  man  is  survives  him. 
It  never  can  be  buried.  It  stays  about  his  home 
when  his  footsteps  are  heard  there  no  more.  It 
lives  in  the  community  where  he  was  known.  And 
this  same  thing — character — a  man  carries  with  him 
into  the  other  life.  Hence  we  should  take  care  to 
build  into  our  character  only  beautiful  things,  things 
that  will  be  admitted  into  the  heavenly  kingdom. 
St.  Paul  teaches  this  when  he  says :  "  Whatsoever 


132  PRAYING  FOR  OUR  FRIENDS. 

things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honourable, 
whatsoever  things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are 
pure,  whatsoever  things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things 

are  of  good  report think  on  these  things,"  and 

"  these  things  do."  It  is  worth  while  to  gather  into 
our  character  these  beautiful  things,  these  eternal 
things,  for  we  can  keep  them  for  ever. 

Another  excellent  thing  is  true  friendship.  We 
must  choose  the  best.  There  are  friendships  that 
only  hurt  the  life,  that  poison  the  fountain  of  being, 
that  mar  the  beauty  of  the  soul.  We  can  find  no 
perfect  friends ;  all  have  their  faults — ways  that  will 
annoy  and  vex  us,  peculiarities  that  will  fret  us. 
Still  there  are  friends  who,  with  all  their  imperfec- 
tions, are  Heaven's  holy  gifts  to  us.  To  have  a  friend 
who  is  true,  worthy,  noble,  pure,  is  a  blessed  privi- 
lege. Friendship  brings  benedictions  into  our  life. 
It  inal<es  us  stronger,  for  it  shares  life's  loads  with 
us.  It  is  an  inspiration  to  us.  It  writes  its  lines 
of  beauty  on  our  soul.  The  things  that  are  true, 
which  holy  friendship  brings  into  our  life,  we  shall 
have  always.  Even  death  cannot  rob  us  of  them. 

These  are  suggestions  of  the  "  things  that  are 
excellent,"  which  a  Christian  should  choose  to  live 
for.  Thousands  of  lives  are  almost  or  entirely  wasted 
because  they  are  spent  in  striving  after  things  that 
are  not  worth  while.  We  are  immortal  beings,  and 
it  is  folly  for  us  to  live  for  this  life  only  and  neglect 
the  things  that  are  eternal. 


PRAYING  FOB  OUB  FRIENDS.  133 

"  To  hug  the  wealth  ye  cannot  use, 

And  lack  the  riches  all  may  gain — 
O  blind,  and  wanting  wit  to  choose, 

Who  house  the  chaff  and  burn -the  grain  1 
And  still  doth  life  with  starry  towers 

Lure  to  the  bright,  divine  ascent ; 

/Be  yours  the  things  ye  would,  be  oura      / 
The  things  that  are  more  excellent.      / 


"  The  grace  of  friendship— mind  and  heart 

Linked  with  their  fellow  heart  and  mind ; 
The  gains  of  science,  gifts  of  art, 

The  sense  of  oneness  with  our  kind  ; 
The  thirst  to  know  and  understand— 

A  large  and  liberal  discontent, — 
These  are  the  goods  in  life's  rich  hand, 

The  things  that  are  more  excellent." 

Another  of  St.  Paul's  prayers  for  his  friends  is 
that  they  may  be  sincere  and  void  of  offence.  Sin- 
cere means  without  wax.  In  Rome's  palmy  days, 
many  people  lived  in  fine  marble  palaces.  Some- 
times a  dishonest  workman,  when  there  was  a  piece 
chipped  off  a  stone,  would  fill  in  the  chink  with  a 
kind  of  cement  called  wax,  an  imitation  of  marble. 
For  a  time  the  deception  would  not  be  discovered ; 
but  after  a  while  the  wax  would  be  discoloured,  and 
thus  the  fraud,  the  untruth,  would  be  exposed.  It 
became  necessary,  therefore,  to  put  in  contracts  with 
builders  a  clause  providing  that  the  work  should  be 
sine  cera — without  wax.  This  is  the  story  of  our 
word  "sincere."  It  means  that  the  life  described  is 
true  through  and  through,  without  deception,  with- 


134  PRAYING  FOR  OUR  FRIENDS. 

out  fraud,  or  any  mere  seeming.     Its  professions  are 
real.     It  makes  no  pretensions,  but  is  simply  itself. 

We  should  mark  well  this  feature  of  life  for  which 
St.  Paul  prays.  Insincerity  in  any  form  mars  the 
beauty  of  a  character.  What  a  farce  people  play 
who  pose  before  the  world  for  what  they  are  not! 
We  all  remember  how,  in  what  scathing  words,  Jesus 
denounced  hypocrisy.  This  was  the  only  sin  of  which 
He  did  not  speak  with  pity  and  compassion.  There 
may  be  hypocrisy  in  other  things  besides  religion. 
One  may  be  a  hypocrite  in  dress,  in  mode  of  living, 
in  professions  of  friendship,  in  business,  in  work. 
There  is  a  great  deal  that  flashes  for  diamond  that 
is  not  diamond.  There  is  much  show  of  wealth  that 
is  only  poverty  in  purple  robes.  There  is  plenty  of 
marble  in  appearance  that  is  only  wax.  St.  Paul's 
prayer  is  that  his  friends  may  be  sincere  in  all 
things.  It  is  a  good  prayer  for  all  of  us  to  make  for 
ourselves.  We  should  be  true  through  and,  through.  / 
We  should  live  so  that  we  shall  never  be  afraid  of 
exposure.  What  a  farce  it  is  to  live  falsely,  insin- 
cerely before  the  world,  a  mere  empty  life  of  outside 
seeming,  while  the  divine  eye  is  looking  down  into 
the  heart  and  seeing  the  poor  miserable  reality ! 

St.  Paul  prays  also  that  his  friends  may  be  with- 
out offence.  We  use  the  word  "  offend  "  of  hurt  feel- 
ing. We  offend  a  man  when  we  make  him  angry. 
The  Bible  takes  small  note  of  mere  hurt  feelings,  but 
it  regards  as  of  infinite  importance  a  hurt  done  to 


PRAYING  FOR  OUR  FRIENDS.  135 

a  life.  We  offend  another  in  the  Bible  sense  when, 
by  our  example,  our  influence,  our  words,  any  act  of 
ours,  we  cause  him  to  stumble  or  fall.  Paul's  prayer 
is  that  his  friends  should  never  do  anything  that 
would  cause  others  to  stumble.  It  is  very  important 
that  we  learn  to  live  so  that  we  shall  never  harm 
other  souls.  Jesus  spoke  very  earnestly  of  the  sin 
of  causing  a  little  one  to  stumble.  It  is  a  grievous 
thing  to  sin ;  it  is  a  yet  more  grievous  thing  to  be 
the  cause  of  another's  sinning.  We  must  guard  our 
habits,  lest  we  set  the  feet  of  others  in  paths  which 
will  lead  them  to  ruin.  We  must  watch  our  words, 
lest  in  unguarded  moments  we  say  that  which  will 
poison  another's  mind.  We  must  look  to  our  ex- 
ample, lest  its  influence  become  the  bane  and  curse 
of  an  innocent  life.  We  should  be  without  offence 
in  all  our  life. 

Another  of  St.  Paul's  prayers  for  his  friends  was 
that  they  should  be  filled  with  the  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness. It  is  good  to  be  without  offence — that  is,  not 
to  do  any  harm  in  the  world.  Yet  that  is  not  the 
best  thing.  Some  people  are  so  afraid  of  doing 
harm  that  they  never  do  any  good.  But  that  is  not 
the  kind  of  goodness  that  the  Bible  urges  us  to 
have.  We  are  to  be  active,  always  abounding  in 
the  work  of  the  Lord.  We  are  to  bring  forth  fruit, 
much  fruit,  and  so  be  Christ's  disciples.  We  are  to 
be  filled  with  the  fruits  of  righteousness.  This  sug- 
gests a  life  that  is  holy,  bearing  the  fruits  of  the 


136  PRAYING  FOR  OUR  FRIENDS. 

Spirit — love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness, 
goodness,  meekness,  faith.  It  means  also  a  life  full 
of  good  works.  We  must  be  useful  people,  helpful 
people.  The  world  is  a  great  sea,  in  whose  dark 
waters  souls  are  perishing,  and  we  must  be  fishers 
of  men.  All  about  us  are  human  need  and  sorrow, 
and  we  must  be  comforters  and  helpers.  We  must 
be  Christ  to  the  world,  ever  carrying  in  us  the 
healing  of  Christ. 

It  is  on  its  branches  that  the  vine  bears  its  fruits, 
and  we  are  the  branches.  Christ  must  live  in  this 
world  in  us  and  through  us,  or  not  at  all.  The 
fruits  with  which  we  would  feed  the  world's  hunger 
must  grow  in  our  lives.  "  Give  ye  them  to  eat,"  is 
Christ's  answer  when  we  tell  Him  of  the  people  all 
about  us  who  are  perishing. 

It  is  fruits  of  righteousness  with  which  we  are  to 
be  filled.  The  revival  that  the  world  .waits  for 
to-day  in  the  church  is  a  revival  of  righteousness. 
"  You  are  not  as  good  as  your  Book,"  said  a  Brahmin 
to  the  missionaries  in  India.  "  If  you  were  as  good 
as  your  Book,  India  would  soon  be  Christ's."  If  all 
Christians  were  as  good  as  their  Book,  this  whole 
world  would  be  Christ's  in  a  little  while.  We  must 
keep  the  commandments.  We  must  be  holy.  We 
must  live  righteously  and  godly  in  this  present  evil 
world.  We  must  bring  the  kingdom  of  heaven  down 
to  earth  in  our  living. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

TRANSFORMING   POWER   OF  PRAYER. 

"  If  we  with  earnest  effort  could  succeed 

To  make  our  life  one  long  connected  prayer, 
As  lives  of  some  perhaps  have  been  and  are ; 

If,  never  leaving  Thee,  we  had  no  need 

Our  wandering  spirits  back  again  to  lead 
Into  Thy  presence,  but  continue  there, 
Like  angels  standing  on  the  highest  stair 

Of  the  sapphire  throne — this  were  to  pray  indeed. 

But  if  distractions  manifold  prevail, 

And  if  in  this  we  must  confess  we  fail, 
Grant  us  to  keep  at  least  a  prompt  desire, 

Continual  readiness  for  prayer  and  praise, 
An  altar  heaped  and  waiting  to  take  fire 

With  the  least  spark,  and  leap  into  a  blaze." 

TRENCH. 

IT  is  a  very  interesting  fact  that  it  was  as  Jesus 
was  praying  that  He  was  transfigured.  When 
He  first  knelt  on  the  cold  mountain,  there  was  no 
brightness  on  His  face ;  but  as  He  continued  in 
prayer,  there  began  to  be,  at  length,  a  strange  glow 
on  His  features.  Brighter  and  brighter  it  grew, 
until  His  face  shone  as  the  sun.  Heaven  came 
down  to  earth,  and  glory  crowned  the  transfigura- 
tion mount 


138     TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER. 

What  was  true  for  Him  in  His  human  life  is  true 
also  for  His  people.  Prayer  transfigures.  There 
may  be  no  such  bodily  transfiguration  as  there  was 
in  the  case  of  Jesus.  Yet  we  have  all  seen  human 
faces  which  had  a  strange  light  in  them,  caused  by 
the  peace  and  joy  within.  The  heart  makes  the 
face.  The  spirit  writes  the  lines  of  its  features  on 
the  countenance.  An  unhappy  heart  soon  makes  an 
unhappy  face.  Discontent  cannot  long  be  hidden; 
it  soon  shows  itself  on  the  surface,  working  up  from 
the  soul's  depths.  Bad  temper  reveals  itself,  not 
only  in  unseemly  outbreaks,  but  in  the  whole  ex- 
pression. Lust  in  the  heart  before  long  stains  and 
blotches  the  features. 

On  the  other  hand,  good  and  beautiful  things 
within  reveal  themselves~Tn~lhe  face.  We  have  all 
seen  sick  people  who  in  sorest  pain  yet  endured 
with  a  patience  which  made  their  features  glow. 
We  have  seen  persons  enduring  sorrow  whose  peace 
seemed  to  shine  through  their  tears  as  if  a  holy 
lamp  were  burning  within.  We  have  seen  old 
people  who  had  learned  life's  lessons  so  well  that 
their  faces,  though  wrinkled  with  age,  appeared 
transfigured  in  sweet,  quiet  beauty. 

Then  who  has  not  seen  faces,  even  in  the  coffin 
on  which  in  very  death  there  appeared  to  sit  a  rest- 
ful calm,  as  if  the  spirit,  in  departing,  had  thrown 
back  the  reflection  of  its  own  blessedness?  Some 
one  writes : — 


TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER.  139 

"  How  oft  we  see  upon  Borne  still,  dead  face 

A  strange,  new  grace — 
A  beauty  that  in  life  we  could  not  trace ; 

"  As  if,  quick  pausing  in  its  glad  release, 

Its  spirit  touched  with  peace 
The  clay  o'er  which  its  power  now  shall  ceat>e ; 

"  And  we  who  thought  to  look  upon  our  dead 

With  shrinking  dread, 
By  that  sweet,  rapturous  calm  are  comforted." 

Even  the  body  is,  indeed,  ofttimes  changed,  trans- 
figured by  the  grace  that  dwells  within.  Our  bodies 
are  temples  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  We  are  assured, 
too,  that  in  the  resurrection  Christ  shall  change  our 
mortal  bodies  into  the  likeness  of  His  own  glorified 
body.  Moses  and  Elijah,  who  appeared  in  glory  on 
the  transfiguration  mount,  were  saints  in  their  com- 
mon, every-day  heavenly  dress. 

But  whatever  we  may  say  about  the  body,  the 
character  of  the  believer  is  transfigured.  A  Chris- 
tian life  is  a  new  incarnation.  If  Christ  dwell  in 
you,  He  will  produce  in  you  the  same  kind  of  life 
which  He  himself  lived  when  He  was  on  the  earth. 
This  change  does  not  come  in  its  completeness 
instantaneously  the  moment  one  believes  in  Christ. 
It  begins  then.  But  life  is  large.  Life's  lessons 
are  many  and  hard  to  learn.  Paul  was  an  old  man 
when  he  said,  "  I  have  learned,  in  whatsoever  state 
I  am,  therein  to  be  content."  It  had  taken  him 
many  years  to  learn  this  lesson  of  contentment  It 


140  TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER. 

takes  any  of  us  years  to  get  life's  lessons  learned. 
But  nothing  is  clearer  than  that  life's  mission  here 
is  to  be  transformed  into  the  likeness  of  Christ. 
There  is  to  be  a  transfiguration  of  character.  Holi- 
ness must  become  the  every-day  dress  of  the  Chris- 
tian. We  are  called  to  be  saints,  even  in  this  world. 

There  is  yet  another  way  in  which  Christian  life 
is  transfigured  by  faith  in  Christ.  The  very  gar- 
ments of  Jesus  were  changed,  sharing  in  His  trans- 
figuration. This  suggests  that  for  the  Christian  all 
life's  conditions  and  circumstances — the  garments  of 
life — are  transfigured. 

Take  the  matter  of  care.  Every  life  has  cares. 
There  are  cares  in  business.  There  are  cares  in 
home-life.  There  are  cares  of  poverty,  but  no  less 
has  the  rich  man  his  cares.  Childhood  has  its 
anxieties;  young  faces  sometimes  appear  careworn. 
No  one  can  escape  care.  To  many  people  life  is 
very  hard.  But  Christian  faith  transfigures  care  for 
those  who  are  Christ's  and  have  learned  how  to  live 
as  He  teaches  us  to  live.  He  tells  us  to  be  anxious 
for  nothing,  because  our  Father  is  caring  for  us. 
He  tells  us  that  life  is  a  school,  and  that  all  our 
cares  are  parts  of  lessons  set  for  us.  That  means 
that  every  care  has  hidden  in  it  a  secret  of  blessing 
— a  gift  of  love  our  Father  has  sent  to  us.  Every 
time  you  come  to  a  hard  point  in  your  life — an 
obstacle,  a  difficulty,  a  perplexity — God  is  giving 
you  a  new  chance  to  grow  stronger,  wiser,  or  richer- 


TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER.  141 

hearted.  We  try  to  make  life  easy  for  our  children, 
but  God  is  wiser  than  we  are.  He  wants  his  chil- 
dren to  have  struggles,  that  they  may  grow  brave 
and  noble.  Mrs.  Sangster  writes  : — 

"  Our  way  had  been  to  smooth  her  upward  road, 
Easing  the  pressure  of  each  heavy  load, 
Never  to  let  her  white  hand  know  a  soil, 
Never  her  back  to  feel  the  ache  of  toil. 
Could  we  have  shielded  her  from  every  care, 
Kept  her  for  ever  young  and  blithe  and  fair, 
And  from  her  body  warded  every  pain, 
And  from  her  spirit  all  distress  and  strain, 
This  had  been  joy  of  joys,  our  chosen  way. 
God  led  her  by  a  different  path,  each  day  ; 
Sorrow  and  work  and  anxious  care  He  gave — 
And  strife  and  anguish— till  her  soul  grew  brave." 

Thus  it  is  that  common  care  is  transfigured  by 
the  grace  of  Christ.  It  infolds  blessings  for  us. 
It  carries  in  its  dreary  form  secrets  of  good  for  us. 
Our  drudgeries  have  benedictions  in  their  wearisome 
routine;  we  get  many  of  our  best  lessons  out  of 
them.  All  we  need  to  learn  is  how  to  meet  our 
worries,  and  they  are  transfigured  for  us.  The 
light  of  Christ  shines  through  them. 

St.  Paul  tells  us  in  a  wonderful  passage  how  to 
get  this  transformation  of  care — to  be  anxious  for 
nothing,  but  in  everything  by  prayer  to  make  our 
requests,  our  worries,  known  to  God.  Then  the 
peace  of  God  shall  guard  our  hearts  and  our  thoughts. 
That  is  transfiguration — God's  peace  shining  through 
all  life's  frets.  Sleeping  on  our  pillow  of  stone, 


142  TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER, 

with  the  cold  night's  chill  about  us,  we  have  visions 
of  God  and  glory.  Thus  care  is  transfigured  by  the 
love  of  Christ  in  the  heart. 

Take  sorrow.  Every  one  has  sorrow.  Being  a 
Christian  does  not  exempt  any  one  from  grief.  But 
here,  again,  faith  in  Christ  brings  transfiguration. 
Not  only  are  we  taught  to  endure  patiently  and 
submissively  the  sorrows  that  come  to  us,  but  we 
are  assured  that  there  is  a  blessing  in  them  for  us, 
if  we  accept  them  with  love  and  trust.  One  of  the 
deepest  truths,  taught  in  the  Bible  is  that  earthly 
sorrow  has  a  mission  in  the  sanctifying  of  life.  One 
of  the  most  sacred  words  of  all  Scripture  is  that 
which  tells  us  that  Jesus  Christ  was  made  perfect 
through  sufferings.  This  teaches  that  in  the  culture 
of  even  His  sinless  character  there  was  something 
which  only  suffering  could  do,  which  He  could  get 
in  no  other  school.  His  life  was  not  perfect  in  its 
development  until  He  had  suffered. 

We  dread  pain,  and  yet  the  soul  that  has  not 
experienced  pain  has  not  yet  touched  the  deepest 
and  most  precious  meanings  of  life.  There  are 
things  we  never  can  learn,  save  in  the  school  of 
pain.  There  are  reaches  of  life  we  never  can  attain, 
save  in  the  bitterness  of  sorrow.  There  are  joys  we 
never  can  have  until  we  come  into  the  dark  ways 
of  trial.  A  French  writer  says:  "Perhaps  to  suf- 
fer is  nothing  else  than  to  live  deeply.  Love  and 
sorrow  are  the  two  conditions  of  a  profound  life." 


TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER.  143 

These  are  true  words.  Without  loving,  one  can 
never  know  anything  of  life  worth  knowing;  and 
without  suffering,  one  can  never  get  below  the  sur- 
face in  human  experience.  Not  to  have  sorrow,  in 
some  form,  is  to  miss  one  of  life's  holiest  oppor- 
tunities. We  get  our  best  things  out  of  trial.  Those 
who  wear  the  white  robes  in  heaven  are  the  saints 
who  have  come  out  of  great  tribulation. 

Thus  it  is  that  Christian  teaching  pours  the  light 
of  Christ  upon  sorrow.  Faith  sees  sorrow  no  longer 
dark  and  portentous,  but  struck  through  with  the 
radiance  of  heaven,  transfigured  by  the  blessedness 
of  Christ. 

Duty,  also,  is  transfigured  by  faith  in  Christ. 
Duty  is  not  easy.  It  covers  every  moment.  Oft- 
times  it  is  hard,  almost  more  than  we  can  endure. 
Men  find  work  oppressive  in  their  places  of  business 
and  toil.  Women  bend  under  their  burden  of  house- 
hold work,  which  is  never  done.  Much  of  all  this 
duty  is  not  only  hard,  but  it  is  also  dreary — the 
same  things  over  and  over,  in  endless  routine.  Oft- 
times,  too,  nothing  seems  to  come  out  of  it  at  all. 
It  is  like  dipping  up  water  in  a  bucket  with  holes — 
nothing  is  gained.  The  hands  are  empty  at  the 
close,  after  a  whole  lifetime  of  toil.  Many  people 
grow  discouraged  when  they  think  of  the  hard, 
grinding  routine  to  which  they  must  put  their 
hands  anew  every  morning.  The  reward  for  doing 
their  work  well  is  only  more  work,  and  harder. 


144  TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER. 

But  here,  again,  Christian  faith  transforms  all. 
There  is  a  blessing  in  duty,  no  matter  how  dull  and 
wearisome  it  is.  There  is  a  blessing  in  the  mere 
doing  of  it,  though  nothing  seem  to  come  of  it.  God 
loves  faithfulness,  and  always  rewards  it.  One  may 
work  hard  for  seventy  years,  and  have  nothing  laid 
up  in  banks  or  in  real  estate ;  but  if  he  has  wrought 
truly,  he  has  indeed  much  treasure  laid  up.  Work 
itself  is  a  blessing,  one  of  the  best  means  of  grace. 
It  lays  up  strength  in  the  body.  It  trains  and 
develops  the  powers.  It  makes  a  man  a  man — self- 
reliant,  capable,  conscious  of  power.  We  talk  of 
the  drudgery  of  our  common  task -work;  it  is  in 
this  very  drudgery  that  we  get  our  best  education. 
We  form  good  habits,  and  thus  build  up  life  and 
character. 

Then  think  of  a  man  supporting  a  home,  bringing 
up  a  family,  providing  for  his  wife  and  children 
through  all  his  years,  and  sending  out  his  sons  and 
daughters  to  take  an  honourable  place  in  the  world. 
Suppose  that  he  is  as  poor  at  the  end  of  his  life  as 
he  was  at  the  beginning;  if  he  has  done  all  this, 
can  he  say  that  his  commonplace  duty  all  the  years 
has  left  no  blessing  ?  He  has  not  piled  money  into 
walls  and  stocks  and  goods,  but  he  has  built  blessing 
into  immortal  lives.  He  has  gathered  a  wealth  of 
noble  character  into  his  own  soul.  He  has  laid  up 
treasures  in  heaven  by  his  faithfulness. 

These  are  hints  of  the  way  faith  in  Christ  trans- 


TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER.  145 

figures  duty.  There  is  a  blessing  in  every  fragment 
of  it  when  love  fills  it.  An  artist's  picture  shows  a 
number  of  angels  in  a  kitchen,  doing  the  work  of  a 
weary  housewife.  One  is  putting  the  kettle  on  the 
fire.  One  is  lifting  a  pail  of  water.  One  is  getting 
down  the  dishes  from  the  cupboard.  Another  is 
sweeping  the  floor.  There  really  is  no  fiction  in  this 
bit  of  art  work.  It  is  beautiful  as  angels'  work,  the 
household  duty  of  the  mothers  and  daughters  in  the 
home.  Then  we  know  that  there  was  One,  higher 
than  all  angels,  who  actually  wrought  for  years  in 
a  peasant  carpenter-shop.  That  is  not  an  artist's 
fancy — that  is  human  story.  Let  not  the  men  who 
work  now  in  business  and  at  trades,  toiling  ofttimes 
even  to  painful  weariness,  ever  say  that  work  is  not 
holy.  All  duty  is  sacred,  transfigured,  if  it  be  done 
with  love  for  Christ  in  the  heart. 

Thus,  turn  where  we  may,  we  find  the  bright 
shining  of  the  glory  of  the  Redeemer  in  these  lives 
of  ours.  Our  very  bodies  are  made  glorious  by  be- 
ing the  temples  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Our  characters 
are  renewed  and  transformed  into  the  beauty  of  the 
Lord  by  the  faith  that  lives  within  us.  Then  all 
life  is  transfigured — care,  sorrow,  duty. 

The  analogy  holds  also  in  the  other  fact  that  it  is 
in  prayer,  communion  with  God,  that  this  transform- 
ing takes  place.  All  true  prayer  has  a  transfiguring 
influence.  It  brings  us  into  the  immediate  presence 
of  God.  The  Holy  of  holies  in  the  ancient  temple, 

(538)  10 


146  TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER. 

where  the  Shechinah  was,  was  no  holier  than  where 
you  bow  every  time  you  pray.  You  are  looking  up 
into  the  face  of  Christ  Himself.  John  was  not  nearer 
to  Him,  lying  upon  His  breast,  than  you  are  in  your 
praying.  One  cannot  thus  look  up  into  the  face  of 
Christ  and  not  have  some  measure  of  transfiguration 
wrought  in  him. 

Then  prayer  is  the  reaching  up  of  the  soul  toward 
God.  It  lifts  the  life  for  the  time  into  the  highest, 
holiest  frame.  A  prayerful  spirit  is  full  of  aspira- 
tions for  God.  Its  longings  are  pressing  up  God- 
ward.  No  mood  of  spiritual  life  is  more  blessed  than 
longing.  It  is  God  in  the  soul  kindling  its  desires 
and  yearnings  for  righteousness  and  holiness.  It  is 
the  transfiguring  of  the  Spirit  which  purifies  these 
dull,  earthly  lives  of  ours,  and  changes  them,  little 
by  little,  into  the  divine  image. 

All  true  prayer  is  characterized  by  submission  to 
God's  will.  We  come  to  God's  feet  full  of  our  own 
ways  and  wishes.  But  it  may  be  that  our  ways  are 
not  God's  ways.  Perhaps  we  are  wilful,  unsub- 
missive, rebellious.  We  desire  things  that  are  not 
best  for  us,  and  we  are  not  willing  to  sink  our  will 
in  God's.  But  while  this  is  our  spirit,  we  cannot 
even  begin  to  pray.  We  must  be  brought  to  say, 
"  Not  my  will  but  thine  be  done."  Thus  praying 
compels  us  into  surrender  and  submission.  It  trains 
us  to  leave  all  our  requests  at  God's  feet  in  con- 
fidence. The  highest  possible  Christian  consecration 


TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER.  147 

is  found  in  the  perfect  yielding  of  the  human  will  to 
the  divine.  That  itself  is  a  transfiguration.  Prayer 
that  compels  us  to  submit  our  way  to  God's  trans- 
forms us  into  God's  image. 

Then  prayer  transfigures  us,  because  it  brings 
down  divine  grace  and  good  into  our  life.  Prayers 
are  answered.  The  things  we  pray  for  we  get,  if 
they  are  things  that  would  truly  bless  our  life.  We 
are  weak,  and  pray  for  strength ;  we  rise  from  our 
knees  with  the  power  of  Christ  resting  upon  us.  We 
pray  for  holiness,  and  into  our  heart  comes  a  new 
gift  of  life,  and  we  feel  in  us  impulses  toward  better 
things.  We  are  in  temptation,  with  fierce  struggles, 
and  calling  for  help ;  we  receive  blessing  from  the 
ministry  of  angels,  who  are  sent  to  strengthen  us. 
We  are  in  sorrow,  and  praying  we  get  comfort  from 
God.  Thus  it  is  that  wherever  and  whenever  we 
pray,  heaven  is  open  above  us,  and  divine  blessings 
are  sent  down  upon  us.  The  touch  of  God  is  upon 
our  soul  in  some  way.  Some  new  brightness  begins 
to  shine  in  our  life. 

"  Lord,  what  a  change  within  us  one  short  hour 
Spent  in  Thy  presence  will  avail  to  make  ! 
What  heavy  burdens  from  our  bosoms  take  1 

What  parched  fields  refresh  as  with  a  shower  ! 

We  kneel,  and  all  around  us  seems  to  lower ; 
We  rise,  and  all,  the  distant  and  the  near, 
Stands  forth  in  sunny  outline,  brave  and  clear. 

We  kneel,  how  weak  I  we  rise,  how  full  of  power  1" 

Thus  prayer  transforms  our  weakness  into  strength. 


148  TRANSFORMING  POWER  OF  PRAYER, 

It  changes  our  defeats  into  victories.  It  brings  us 
peace  in  turmoil.  It  changes  fretting  care  into  quiet 
trust.  It  sets  rainbows  on  our  storm-clouds.  It 
makes  our  tears  of  sorrow  lenses,  through  which  we 
see  deeper  into  heaven.  It  opens  the  treasures  of 
God's  love,  and  enriches  us  with  the  best  things  of 
grace.  Praying,  we  are  transfigured. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SERVING   OUR  GENERATION. 

*'  My  life  is  not  my  own,  but  Christ's,  who  gave  it, 

And  He  bestows  it  upon  all  the  race ; 
I  lose  it  for  His  sake,  and  thus  I  save  it ; 
I  hold  it  close,  but  only  to  expend  it ; — 

Accept  it,  Lord,  for  others,  through  Thy  grace." 

"  r  I  ^0  have  been  thought  about  by  God,  born  in 
A  God's  thought,  and  then  made  by  God,  is 
the  dearest,  grandest,  most  precious  thing  in  all 
thinking."  It  gives  dignity  and  also  sacredness  to 
our  life  to  think  thus  of  it.  Every  true-hearted 
person,  realizing  this  truth,  will  seek  to  work  out 
God's  thought  in  his  own  character  and  life.  Of 
course,  we  cannot  do  this  perfectly,  for  nothing 
human  is  perfect.  The  artist  fails  to  put  all  his 
vision  into  his  picture. 

"  No  great  thinker  ever  lived  and  taught  you 

All  the  wonder  that  his  soul  received  ; 
No  true  painter  ever  set  on  canvas 
All  the  glorious  vision  he  conceived. 

"  No  real  poet  ever  wove  in  numbers 

All  his  dream ;  but  the  diviner  part, 
Hidden  from  all  the  world,  spoke  to  him  only, 
In  the  voiceless  silence  of  his  heart." 


150  SERVING  OUR  GENERATION. 

In  all  our  life  we  do,  even  at  our  best,  but  a  little 
of  the  beautiful  work  we  intend  and  plan.  We 
blunder  and  stumble  in  our  holiest  endeavours.  Our 
clumsy  hands  mar  the  lovely  ideals  which  our  soul 
visions.  We  set  out  in  the  morning  with  high  re- 
solves, but  our  evening  confessions  tell  of  many  a 
shortcoming.  We  never  live  any  day  as  well  as  we 
know  how  to  live. 

Yet  there  is  a  sense  in  which,  without  attaining 
perfection,  a  human  life  may  fulfil  God's  plan  for  it. 
One  of  the  most  interesting  illustrations  of  such  a 
life  is  David's.  The  Lord  says,  "  I  have  found  David, 
the  son  of  Jesse,  a  man  after  mine  own  heart,  who 
shall  fulfil  all  my  will."  Then  in  another  sentence 
we  catch  the  secret  of  this  life  which  was  so  com- 
plete. We  are  told  that  he  "  served  his  own  genera- 
tion by  the  will  of  God."  It  is  worth  our  while  to 
look  closely  at  this  inspired  description  of  a  life  that 
so  pleased  God,  in  order  that  we  may  learn  how  to 
work  out  the  divine  thought  for  ourselves. 

There  are  several  luminous  words  in  the  brief 
sentence  which  make  its  meaning  very  clear.  The 
word  "  served  "  is  one  of  these.  David  served.  This 
is  not  a  favourite  word.  We  naturally  resent  the  idea 
of  serving.  It  seems  to  have  an  ignoble  meaning. 
But  really  it  is  one  of  the  royallest  of  words.  One 
who  has  not  begun  to  serve  has  not  begun  to  live. 
God  never  yet  made  a  life  for  selfishness.  Jesus 
came  to  show  us  the  perfect  divine  ideal  of  human 


SERVING  OUR  GENERATION.  151 

living,  and  He  served  unto  the  very  uttermost.  "  I 
came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister," 
was  His  own  declaration  of  His  life's  central  thought 
and  purpose.  When  they  asked  Him  who  was  great- 
est in  His  kingdom,  He  said,  "  He  that  serves."  We 
are  to  live  not  to  get,  but  to  give ;  not  to  be  helped, 
but  to  help ;  not  to  receive,  but  to  bestow.  Whittier 
says: — 

/  "  Love  is  sweet  in  any  guise,      / 
'       But  its  best  is  sacrifice. 

"  He  who,  giving,  does  not  crave, 
Likest  is  to  Him  who  gave 
Life  itself  the  loved  to  save." 

Helen  Hunt  Jackson  puts  the  same  truth  in  most 
striking  way : — 

"  When  love  is  strong, 
It  never  tarries  to  take  heed 
Or  know  if  its  return  exceed 
Its  gifts ;  in  its  sweet  haste  no  greed, 
No  strifes  belong. 

"  It  hardly  asks 
If  it  be  loved  at  all ;  to  take 
So  barren  seems,  when  it  can  make 
Such  bliss,  for  the  beloved's  sake, 
Of  bitter  tasks." 

Another  phase  of  the  thought  lies  in  the  fuller 
phrase — David  served  his  own  generation.  This  is 
a  large  saying.  What  was  David's  generation  ?  In 
general,  it  was  the  whole  number  of  the  people  who 
lived  when  he  did.  Our  generation  is  the  entire 


152  SERVING  OUR  GENERATION. 

human  family  living  at  the  present  time  on  the  earth. 
How  can  any  man  serve  all  his  own  generation? 
There  are  hundreds  of  millions  of  people  he  can  never 
see ;  how  can  he  do  anything  for  these  ?  One  way 
of  serving  our  own  generation  is  to  fill  well  the  little 
place  which  we  are  assigned  in  the  divine  provi- 
dence. This  is  the  answer  to  the  question  for  the 
greater  number  of  us.  We  can  do  most  to  bless  the 
world  at  large  by  being  a  true  blessing  to  the  little 
circle  in  the  midst  of  which  we  are  placed. 

Another  way  in  which  we  can  serve  our  generation 
is  by  giving  to  it  something  which  will  enrich  it, 
which  will  add  to  its  happiness  and  good,  which  will 
make  it  better,  purer.  We  have  an  illustration  of 
this  in  the  story  of  David's  life.  He  gave  much  to 
his  generation.  He  began  in  a  very  humble  way. 
He  was  a  shepherd-boy,  keeping  his  father's  sheep. 
No  doubt  even  then  he  did  his  lowly  work  well. 
Besides,  although  unconsciously,  he  was  now  in  train- 
ing for  his  larger  duties,  and  he  learned  aptly.  It 
was  not  long  until  his  life  began  to  be  a  blessing. 

One  day  there  came  a  remarkable  opportunity  for 
this  lad  to  serve  his  people  and  country.  A  great 
giant  stalked  before  the  lines  of  the  army,  challeng- 
ing the  king  and  his  warriors.  By  single  combat 
the  question  was  to  be  decided.  But  there  was  no 
one  in  Saul's  army  who  would  accept  the  challenge 
and  meet  the  champion.  Day  after  day  the  mocking 
scene  was  repeated.  Then  David  came  to  the  field — 


SERVING  OUR  GENERATION.  153 

came  on  a  simple  errand  to  his  brothers — and  his 
hand  laid  the  proud  giant  in  the  dust.  By  this  vic- 
tory he  served  his  nation — served  his  generation. 

Then  followed  a  long  period  of  sore  trial,  when  the 
envy  and  hatred  of  Saul  made  David  an  exile.  He 
was  hunted  among  the  hills  by  the  king  and  his 
men  as  if  he  had  been  a  wild  beast.  His  life  was 
continually  in  peril.  He  suffered  injury  and  wrong. 
But  even  in  those  days  he  was  serving  his  own 
generation.  He  did  this  by  his  noble  bearing  under 
wrong  and  persecution.  He  never  resented  the  king's 
anger  or  the  injustice  of  the  treatment  he  received. 
He  endured  it  all  sweetly.  On  two  occasions,  when 
he  had  his  enemy  in  his  power,  he  would  not  harm 
him,  but  returned  kindness  for  murderous  hate. 
David  served  his  generation  most  effectively  during 
those  dark  years  by  giving  to  it  such  an  example  of 
true  and  beautiful  living. 

We  say  that  one  who  paints  a  fine  picture  serves 
his  generation.  He  sets  before  the  eyes  of  men  a 
fragment  of  beauty  which  is  a  benediction  to  all  who 
see  it,  leaving  in  human  hearts  a  new  thought  of 
tenderness,  a  new  vision  of  noble  living,  a  sentiment 
which  makes  lives  truer,  richer,  humaner,  diviner. 
So  does  every  one  serve  his  generation  who  shows  it 
a  fragment  of  beautiful  living — patience  under  trial, 
purity  and  uprightness  under  temptation,  love  and 
meekness  under  injury  and  wrong.  The  blessing  of 
David's  behaviour  while  pursued  by  Saul  has  stayed 


154  SERVING  OUK  GENERATION. 

all  these  centuries  since  in  the  world — a  refining,  up- 
lifting, enriching  influence. 

David  also  served  his  generation  as  king.  Saul 
had  failed.  He  was  not  a  good  king.  He  was  not 
doing  his  work  well.  Then  God  removed  him,  and 
called  David  to  the  throne.  In  many  ways  David's 
reign  was  a  blessing.  He  conquered  his  people's 
enemies,  and  took  possession  of  the  whole  land  of 
promise.  His  was  largely  a  work  of  conquest.  He 
desired  to  build  a  temple  for  the  Lord ;  but  he  was 
not  permitted  to  do  this,  for  this  was  not  in  God's 
plan  for  him — this  was  another  man's  mission.  Yet 
the  temple  was  in  a  sense  his.  The  thought  of  it 
was  his.  He  purchased  the  site  for  it.  He  gathered 
vast  treasures  for  its  erection.  Thus  he  served  his 
generation  by  what  he  did  for  the  honour  of  God's 
name. 

Any  one  who  sets  the  name  of  God  in  clearer  light 
before  men,  so  that  its  glory  shall  shine  more  widely 
and  its  influence  touch  more  hearts  and  lives,  has 
wrought  a  service  for  the  race.  The  whole  world 
was  the  better  for  David's  reign  as  king  of  Israel. 
The  light  of  his  beneficent  work  reached  all  lands, 
and  shines  yet  throughout  all  countries. 

David  served  his  generation  also  through  the 
psalms  he  wrote.  He  was  the  first  to  give  sacred 
music  a  place  in  the  worship  of  God.  He  organized 
the  great  choir  which  afterwards  sang  in  the  temple. 
Then  he  wrote  the  first  hymns  which  were  sung  in 


SERVING  OUR  GENERATION.  155 

God's  worship.  No  one  can  estimate  the  value  to 
his  generation  of  this  one  part  of  David's  serving. 
He  who  writes  a  sweet  song  which  lifts  men's  hearts 
toward  God,  which  kindles  praise  and  devotion,  which 
inspires  joy  and  hope  in  sorrow,  which  gives  new 
impulses  to  holy  living,  has  done  one  of  the  noblest 
services  to  his  fellow-men  which  it  is  permitted  to 
mortal  to  do  on  this  earth. 

But  the  ministry  of  David's  harp  was  not  for  his 
own  generation  only ;  it  was  for  all  after  generations. 
David's  psalms  have  been  sung  now  for  nearly  three 
thousand  years.  They  have  become  an  important 
part  of  the  hymnody  of  the  Christian  church.  Not 
even  the  Gospels  are  read  more  in  the  devotions  of 
Christian  people  than  some  of  David's  psalms.  Who 
can  ever  estimate  the  service  to  the  world  of  such 
single  psalms  as  the  twenty-third  and  the  fifty-first  ? 
How  many  hearts  have  been  comforted,  how  many 
fears  quieted,  how  many  trembling  feet  steadied  as 
they  entered  the  valley  of  shadows,  how  many  tears 
of  mourners  dried,  through  the  reading  and  singing 
of  the  shepherd  psalm  ?  How  many  sinning  souls 
have  been  led  back  to  God  along  the  paths  of  peni- 
tence by  the  psalm  of  repentance  ? 

These  are  mere  suggestions  of  the  way  David 
served  his  generation.  He  did  it  simply  by  being 
faithful  in  the  place  of  present  duty.  It  was  not  by 
any  one  act  alone  that  he  blessed  his  generation.  Of 
course,  there  were  great  single  acts  whose  influence 


156  SERVING  OUR  GENERATION. 

went  out  widely,  but  all  these  acts  formed  part  of 
the  one  life.  David's  shepherd  life  seemed  lowly  and 
obscure.  How  was  he  serving  his  generation  then  ? 
He  could  not  have  slain  Goliath  and  delivered  his 
country's  armies  from  the  terror  of  the  Philistine 
champion,  if,  as  a  shepherd  lad,  he  had  not  become 
expert  in  the  use  of  the  sling.  Nor  could  he  have 
written  the  twenty-third  Psalm  in  his  old  age,  breath- 
ing into  it  the  precious  thoughts  which  have  made  it 
such  a  blessing  to  millions,  if  he  had  not  been  a 
shepherd  himself  in  his  boyhood,  leading  his  sheep  in 
the  green  pastures,  beside  the  still  waters,  in  right 
paths,  through  deep,  dark  valleys.  The  memories  of 
his  youth  live  in  every  line  of  that  wonderful  psalm 
of  old  age.  Thus  even  his  childhood  had  its  place  in 
his  life  of  service.  Each  period  fitted  him  for  the 
next.  In  all  his  ways  he  was  faithful.  He  lived  to 
serve — to  serve  God  and  to  serve  his  generation.  In 
doing  so  he  served  all  generations  after  his  own,  to 
the  end  of  time.  The  world  is  better,  sweeter,  richer, 
purer,  brighter,  to-day,  because  David  lived,  served, 
suffered,  reigned,  and  sang. 

No  doubt  David's  was  a  rare  life.  But  few  other 
men  in  the  world's  history  have  been  of  such  service 
to  their  own  and  after  generations  as  he  was.  Even 
among  the  great  and  good  the  influence  of  but  few 
reaches  beyond  their  own  times,  save  as  all  good 
words  and  deeds  live,  being  immortal.  Besides,  only 
a  few  men  in  a  generation  have  power  to  reach,  touch, 


SERVING  OUR  GENERATION.  157 

and  impress  the  whole  generation.  Hence  what 
David  did  may  seem  to  have  no  lesson  for  us.  We 
cannot  be  kings.  We  cannot  plan  temples.  We 
cannot  write  psalms  or  hymns  which  shall  live  a 
thousand  years.  We  are  little  people,  and  can  fill 
only  a  little  place.  We  cannot  serve  our  generation 
in  the  same  large  way  in  which  David  served  his. 
Yet  each  individual  life  has  its  own  distinct  place  in 
the  thought  of  God,  and  each  may  fill  out  its  own 
pattern. 

Even  the  smallest  life  lived  well  blesses  the  world. 
We  have  only  to  be  true  to  God  and  to  love,  the  law 
of  life,  and  our  smallest  words  and  deeds  will,  in  some 
measure  at  least,  make  the  whole  race  better.  Every 
good  word  we  speak  adds  something  to  the  sum  of 
goodness  in  the  world.  Every  good  deed  we  do  makes 
it  a  little  easier  for  others  to  do  good  deeds,  and  lifts 
a  little  higher  the  standard  of  living  among  men. 
To  make  one  person  a  little  happier  each  day,  to 
lighten  one  burden,  to  make  one  heart  braver  and 
stronger,  to  comfort  one  sorrow,  to  guide  one  per- 
plexed soul  into  peace,  to  show  one  bewildered  child 
the  right  path,  to  speak  the  word  which  helps  one 
tempted  person  to  overcome,  to  lift  one  fainting  robin 
back  unto  his  nest  again — one  such  service  is  enough 
to  redeem  a  life  from  uselessness  and  to  make  it  a 
blessing  to  a  whole  generation. 

Many  people  are  oppressed  and  disheartened  by  the 
seeming  smallness  and  insignificance  of  their  life. 


158  SERVING  OUR  GENERATION. 

"  I  can  be  of  no  use  in  this  great  world,"  they  say, 
"  I  am  only  one  leaf  in  the  forest,  one  flower  in  all 
the  gardens  and  fields."  Very  dispiriting  is  the  effect 
of  this  feeling  of  littleness  in  this  great,  multitudinous 
life.  But  we  live  as  individuals.  God  knows  and 
calls  us  by  name.  Each  life  is  a  distinct  individual- 
ity. We  know  not  what  is  small  or  what  is  large. 
Each  smallest  deed  of  ours  starts  influences  which 
never  shall  cease  to  be  felt  in  the  universe.  Poets 
tell  us  how  the  pebble  dropped  in  the  sea  starts 
wavelets  which  break  on  all  earth's  shores,  and  how 
the  word  spoken  into  the  air  sets  in  motion  reverber- 
ations which  go  round  and  round  the  sphere.  We 
know  at  least  that  no  smallest  act  or  word  of  love 
ever  can  be  lost. 

Much  of  life  is  only  fragments — unfinished  things, 
broken  sentences,  interrupted  efforts,  pictures  left 
uncompleted,  sculptures  only  half  hewn,  letters  only 
partly  written,  songs  only  begun  and  choked  in 
tears.  But  not  one  of  these  fragments  is  lost,  if  it 
has  love's  blessed  life  in  it. 


"  A  broken  song — it  had  dropped  apart 
Just  as  it  left  the  singer's  heart, 
And  was  never  whispered  upon  the  air, 
Only  breathed  into  the  vague  '  Somewhere.' 

"  A  broken  prayer — only  half  said 
By  a  tired  child  at  his  trundle-bed  ; 
While  asking  Jesus  his  soul  to  keep, 
With  parted  lips  he  fell  asleep. 


SERVING  OUR  GENERATION.  159 

"  A  broken  life — hardly  half  told 
When  it  dropped  the  burden  it  could  not  hold. 
Of  these  lives  and  songs  and  prayers,  half  done, 
God  gathers  the  fragments  every  one." 

God  gathers  the  fragments ;  they  are  not  lost. 
Then  they  stay  in  other  lives,  making  the  world 
better,  sweeter,  richer.  Shall  we  call  this  a  small 
thing?  Even  the  lowliest  life  may  thus  serve  its 
generation  and  all  after  generations.  You  may  start 
something  beautiful  to-day  which  shall  bless  the 
world  to  its  remotest  ages. 

There  is  yet  another  word  in  this  epitaph  of 
David  which  is  needed  to  complete  our  lesson. 

"David served  his  own  generation  by  the  will  of 

God."  That  is,  the  will  of  God  was  the  guide  of  his 
life.  God  had  a  plan  for  his  life.  We  are  not  hap- 
hazard things  in  this  world ;  we  are  thoughts  of 
God.  The  practical  question  is,  "  How  can  we  find 
and  fulfil  God's  plan  for  our  life  ? "  We  know  it  is 
possible  to  miss  it  altogether.  King  Saul  missed 
God's  plan  for  his  life.  He  might  have  served  his 
generation  so  as  to  bless  it  and  bless  all  the  world, 
leaving  a  name  of  honour  and  an  influence  for  good 
for  all  after  ages.  Judas  missed  God's  plan  for  his 
life.  He  might  have  been  an  apostle  of  Christ's 
grace,  his  name  like  fragrance ;  but  instead,  his 
picture  is  turned  to  the  wall,  and  a  hideous  shame 
gathers  about  his  name.  Thousands  more  have 
missed  finding  and  fulfilling  God's  thought  for  their 
life.  Thousands  are  doing  the  same  every  day. 


160  SERVING  OUR  GENERATION. 

How  do  they  miss  it?  By  not  accepting  God's 
will  for  them.  Saul  began  almost  at  once  to  take 
his  own  way  instead  of  God's.  He  obeyed  only  in 
part,  or  he  did  not  obey  at  all.  Judas  resisted  the 
teachings  of  the  Master.  He  let  the  world  into  his 
heart.  He  gave  way  to  the  devil.  He  missed  glory, 
and  got  shame  and  everlasting  contempt.  The  lesson 
is  very  solemn.  We  can  fail  of  beauty  and  good  for  our 
life  and  miss  the  radiant  loveliness  God  has  planned 
for  us.  We  surely  will  fail  and  miss  all  if  we  re- 
fuse to  fashion  our  life  according  to  the  will  of  God. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  may  find  God's  plan  for 
our  life.  David  found  it  and  fulfilled  it.  Thousands 
more  have  found  it.  The  highest  of  all  examples 
was  Jesus  Christ.  He  lived  out  perfectly  the  divine 
purpose.  In  all  cases  the  will  of  God  has  been  the 
one  law  of  life.  At  every  step  we  find  Jesus  re- 
ferring to  His  Father's  will.  Then  at  last  He  could 
say,  "  Father,  I  have  finished  the  work  which  thou 
gavest  me  to  do."  If  we  do  God's  will  day  by  day, 
we  shall  serve  our  own  generation  and  fill  out  the 
pattern  of  life  sketched  for  us  by  the  great  Master  of 
all  lives. 

Then  the  end  will  be  blessed.  "David,  after  he 
had  served  his  own  generation,  fell  on  sleep."  That 
was  well.  His  work  was  done.  Rest  is  sweet  when 
tasks  are  finished.  He  fell  on  sleep,  but  his  life  goes 
on  yet.  God  owned  it  and  enshrined  it.  The  songs 
he  sang  we  are  singing  to-day. 


SERVING  OUR  GENERATION.  161 

Victor  Hugo,  in  his  old  age,  said :  "  The  nearer  I 
approach  the  end,  the  plainer  I  hear  around  me  the 
immortal  symphonies  of  the  world  which  invites  me. 
When  I  go  down  to  the  grave,  I  can  say,  like  so 
many  others,  '  I  have  finished  my  day's  work ; '  but  I 
cannot  say,  'I  have  finished  my  life!'  My  day's 
work  will  begin  again  next  morning.  My  tomb  is 
not  a  blind  alley,  it  is  a  thoroughfare;  it  closes 
with  the  twilight  to  open  with  the  dawn." 


<M8) 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  MINISTRY   OF  SUFFERING. 

" '  Look  thou  beyond  the  evening  star,'  she  said, 
'  Beyond  the  changing  splendours  of  the  day ; 
Accept  the  pain,  the  weariness,  the  dread, — 
Accept,  and  bid  me  stay.' 

"  And  now  I  look  beyond  the  evening  star, 

Beyond  the  changing  splendours  of  the  day, 
Knowing  the  pain  He  sends  more  precious  far, 
More  beautiful  than  they."— CKLIA  THAXTEB. 

ONE  of  the  most  remarkable  visions  of  the 
Apocalypse  shows  us  a  throng  arrayed  in 
white  robes — heaven's  most  honoured  ones.  When 
the  question  is  asked,  "  Who  are  these,  and  whence 
came  they  ? "  the  answer  is,  "  These  are  they  which 
came  out  of  great  tribulation."  That  is,  the  glorified 
ones  of  heaven  have  been  the  suffering  ones  of  earth. 
Suffering  is  a  cloud  whose  earth-side  is  very  black, 
unrelieved  ofttimes  by  a  single  gleam  of  brightness. 
But  here  we  get  a  glimpse  of  the  heaven-side  of  the 
same  cloud.  Those  who  have  been  in  sore  tribula- 
tion in  this  world  appear  in  brightest  glory  in 
heaven.  The  sufferings  through  which  they  have 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SUFFERING.  163 

passed  have  not  destroyed  them,  have  not  marred 
nor  defaced  the  beauty  of  their  lives.  Indeed,  they 
are  seen  here  away  beyond  the  experiences  of  pain 
and  trial,  shining  in  robes  of  victory  and  blessedness. 
And  this  high  honour  is  the  result  of  the  suffering  of 
their  earthly  life. 

Some  people  regard  suffering  as  punishment  for 
sin,  and  when  it  comes  to  them  they  ask  what  they 
have  done  to  merit  such  severe  treatment.  Others 
interpret  it  as  showing  unkindness  in  God,  and  ask 
why,  if  God  is  their  Father  and  loves  them,  He  can 
send  such  trials  upon  them. 

But  the  Scriptures,  while  they  do  not  solve  all  the 
mystery  of  suffering,  show  us  that  it  is  no  accident 
in  God's  world,  but  is  one  of  God's  messengers, 
which,  if  received  in  humility  and  faith,  will  always 
leave  a  blessing.  Our  Lord  once  bade  His  disciples 
consider  the  lilies  how  they  grew.  Where  do  the 
lilies  get  their  beauty  ?  Down  in  the  darkness  of 
the  soil  the  roots  lie,  hidden,  despised,  amid  clods; 
but  there  they  prepare  the  loveliness  and  the  sweet- 
ness which  make  the  lilies  so  admired  as  they  press 
up  into  the  air.  Is  it  not  so  with  the  fairest  things 
of  life,  with  the  sweetest  things  of  experience  ?  Are 
not  many  of  them  born  down  in  the  darkness  of 
sorrow,  suffering,  or  pain?  Many  a  life  which  we 
admire,  whose  gentleness,  purity,  and  sweetness  are 
benedictions  to  the  world,  got  these  lovely  things  in 
a  sick-room  or  in  experiences  of  suffering. 


164  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SUFFERING. 

This  is  the  great  truth  that  lies  in  this  Apocalyptic 
picture.  The  happy  saints,  with  their  white  robes 
and  their  palms,  had  come  out  of  great  tribulation ; 
and  the  tribulation  had  helped  to  give  them  their 
radiant  garments  and  their  glad  joy.  We  may  say, 
then,  that  the  design  of  God,  in  all  the  afflictions 
which  come  upon  His  people,  is  to  make  them  better, 
to  promote  their  purification  of  character,  to  prepare 
them  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light. 

The  word  "  tribulation  "  is  suggestive.  It  comes 
from  a  word  which  means  a  flail.  The  thresher  uses 
the  flail  to  beat  and  bruise  the  wheat  sheaves,  that 
he  may  separate  the  golden  grain  from  the  chaff  and 
straw.  Tribulation  is  God's  threshing — not  to  destroy 
us,  but  to  get  what  is  good,  heavenly,  and  spiritual 
in  us  separated  from  what  is  wrong,  earthly,  and 
fleshly.  Nothing  less  than  blows  of  pain  will  do 
this.  The  evil  clings  so  to  the  good,  the  golden 
wheat  of  goodness  in  us  is  so  wrapped  up  in  the 
strong  chaff  of  the  old  life,  that  only  the  heavy  flail 
of  suffering  can  produce  the  separation. 

Not  all  sufferings  hang  crape  on  doors.  The 
family  circle  may  not  be  broken  by  bereavement, 
and  yet  there  may  be  tribulation  crashing  deep  into 
the  heart.  There  are  people  who  wear  no  garb  or 
sign  of  mourning  who  yet  are  really  mourners. 
There  are  those  who  carry  pain  at  their  hearts  con- 
tinually, in  the  brightest  sunshine,  when  they  seem 
gayest  and  happiest,  because  of  things  in  those 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SUFFERING.  165 

nearest  and  dearest  to  them  which  weigh  upon  them 
like  a  cruel  cross.  Then,  not  all  the  sufferings  that 
visit  the  soul  come  from  without ;  indeed,  the  worst 
grief  is  that  which  the  evil  of  our  own  hearts  has 
caused.  To  a  tender  spirit  nothing  gives  so  much 
pain  as  its  own  sins  and  failures.  We  grieve  when 
we  have  to  lay  a  friend  away  in  the  grave ;  but  we 
ought  to  grieve  far  more  when  some  sin  has  defiled 
our  conscience  and  hung  a  new  veil  between  our  soul 
and  God.  In  the  earnest  Christian  life,  there  are  no 
tears  so  bitter  as  those  that  are  shed  in  the  soul's 
agonies  as  it  strives  after  holiness. 

There  is  no  truth  taught  more  clearly  than  that 
perfection  of  character  can  be  reached  only  through 
suffering.  We  can  never  get  away  from  our  old  self, 
and  grow  up  into  purity,  strength,  and  nobleness, 
without  pain.  The  fires  of  passion  and  iniquity 
which  are  in  our  old  nature  cannot  be  burned  out 
without  agony.  Holiness  cannot  be  reached  without 
cost.  Those  who  would  gain  the  lofty  heights  must 
climb  the  cold,  rough  steeps  that  lead  to  them.  It 
is  God's  design  in  all  the  pain  He  sends  us  to  make 
us  better.  His  fires  mean  purification.  His  prunings 
mean  more  fruitfulness.  In  whatever  form  the 
suffering  comes — as  bereavement,  as  sin  or  shame 
in  a  friend,  or  as  penitence  and  contrition  over  one's 
own  faults — the  purpose  of  pain  is  merciful.  God 
is  saving  us  in  all  our  life  in  this  world,  and  suffering 
is  one  of  the  chief  agents  He  employs.  The  redeemed 


166  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SUFFERING. 

in  heaven  have  corne  out  of  great  tribulation.  But 
for  the  tribulation  they  would  never  have  worn  the 
white  robes  nor  borne  the  palms. 

Jesus  gave  us  as  one  of  His  beatitudes,  "  Blessed 
are  they  that  mourn ;  for  they  shall  be  comforted." 
It  is  worth  while  to  notice  where  this  beatitude 
stands.  "  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit."  "  Blessed 
are  the  meek."  "Blessed  are  the  peacemakers." 
"Blessed  are  the  merciful."  "Blessed  are  the  pure 
in  heart."  Then,  in  the  heart  of  this  cluster,  "  Blessed 
are  they  that  mourn."  We  do  not  question  the 
blessedness  of  humility,  of  meekness,  of  the  peace- 
making spirit,  of  purity  of  heart,  of  mercifulness; 
and  mourning  is  set  by  the  Master  in  the  same 
cluster.  Heaven's  radiant  light  shines  about  Chris- 
tian sorrow,  just  as  about  purity  of  heart,  merciful- 
ness, or  spiritual  hunger.  Yet  the  blessing  lies  not 
in  the  sorrow  but  in  the  comfort.  "Blessed  are 
they  that  mourn;  for  they  shall  be  comforted." 
God's  comfort  is  such  a  rich  blessing  that  it  is  worth 
while  to  have  sorrow  that  we  may  have  the  comfort. 
This  picture  in  the  Apocalypse,  from  the  heavenly 
side,  helps  us  to  understand  our  Lord's  beatitude. 
Those  who  have  mourned  on  earth  will  wear  the 
whitest  robes  in  the  glory  of  heaven. 

St.  Paul,  too,  speaks  of  the  blessed  ministry  of 
suffering.  "  We  glory  in  tribulations  also :  knowing 
that  tribulation  worketh  patience;  and  patience, 
experience ;  and  experience,  hope."  That  is,  tribula- 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SUFFERING.  167 

tion  works  out  in  us  qualities  of  Christian  character 
which  cannot  be  developed  in  human  gladness.  In 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  the  doctrine  of  suffering 
is  put. in  this  way:  "All  chastening  seemeth  for  the 
present  to  be  not  joyous,  but  grievous :  yet  afterward 
it  yieldeth  peaceable  fruit  unto  them  that  have  been 
exercised  thereby,  even  the  fruit  of  righteousness." 
Pain  is  God's  pruning-knif e ;  it  cuts  deeply,  ofttimes, 
and  seems  to  destroy,  but  the  result  is  greater  fruit- 
fulness.  Suffering  is  God's  furnace-fire.  Its  hot 
flames  burn  as  if  to  work  utter  destruction;  but 
afterwards  the  gold  that  before  was  dim  and  impure 
shines  in  dazzling  brightness. 

"  God  never  would  send  you  the  darkness 

If  He  felfa  you  could  bear  the  light ; 
But  you  would  not  cling  to  His  guiding  hand 

If  the  way  were  always  bright, 
And  you  would  not  care  to  walk  by  faith 

Could  you  always  walk  by  sight. 

1  So  He  sends  you  the  blinding  darkness, 

And  the  furnace  of  seven-fold  heat. 
Tis  the  only  way,  believe  me, 

To  keep  you  close  to  His  feet ; 
For  'tis  always  so  easy  to  wander 

When  our  lives  are  glad  and  sweet." 

We  have  all  known  Christian  sufferers  who  have 
grown  into  rare,  sweet  beauty  as  they  have  suffered. 
They  have  lost  their  earthliness  and  have  learned 
heavenliness.  Pride  has  given  way  to  humility. 
Impatience  has  become  sweet  patience.  The  harsh 


168  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SUFFERING. 

music  has  grown  soft  and  gentle.  The  rough  marble 
has  taken  the  shape  of  graceful  beauty.  It  is  true, 
as  a  rule,  that  the  noblest,  richest,  purest,  most 
beautiful  lives  in  this  world  have  been  lives  of 
suffering.  There  are  elements  of  loveliness  in  the 
depths  of  every  life  which  only  the  fires  of  pain  can 
bring  out.  The  photographer  carries  his  picture  into 
a  darkened  room  to  develop  it.  God  often  takes 
His  children  into  the  chamber  of  pain  and  draws  the 
curtains,  while  He  there  brings  out  the  features  of 
His  own  image,  which  before  had  been  only  dim  and 
shadowy  outlines. 

But  our  lesson  is  not  yet  complete.  Not  all 
afflictions  make  people  better.  Not  all  who  suffer 
are  made  thereby  more  meet  for  heaven.  Tribula- 
tion does  not  always  work  patience.  Chastening 
does  not  always,  even  afterward,  yield  the  peaceable 
fruit  of  righteousness.  We  have  all  seen  people 
suffering  who  only  became  more  impatient,  irritable, 
ill-tempered,  selfish,  and  cold,  as  they  suffered.  Many 
a  life  loses  all  the  beauty  it  ever  had  in  the  furnace 
of  affliction.  There  are  dangerous  shoals  skirting 
the  deeps  of  affliction,  and  many  frail  barks  are 
wrecked  in  the  darkness.  In  no  experience  of  life 
have  most  persons  more  need  of  wise  friendship 
and  firm,  loving  guidance  than  in  their  times  of 
trouble. 

It  is  not  said  in  the  Revelation  that  tribulation 
itself  made  the  robes  of  the  saints  white.  Tribula- 


THE  MINISTRY  OP  SUFFERING.  169 

tion  is  the  instrument,  the  hand  that  washes ;  but  it 
is  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer  that  makes  the  gar- 
ments shine  so  radiantly.  That  is,  those  who  suffered 
were  united  to  Christ  as  branches  in  a  vine,  and  in 
all  their  sufferings  were  nourished  by  His  life. 

We  should  learn  well  how  to  meet  and  endure 
trial  so  as  to  get  from  it  the  ministry  of  good  and 
of  blessing  which  God  means  it  to  work  in  us.  We 
must  make  sure,  for  one  thing,  that  we  are  truly  in 
Christ.  Two  trees  stood  side  by  side  one  early 
spring.  Both  of  them  were  bare.  The  sun  poured 
down  his  warm  beams  upon  them  both,  and  the 
clouds  emptied  their  rain  upon  them.  Soon  one  of 
them  was  covered  with  bursting  buds  and  then  with 
rich  foliage;  but  the  other  was  still  bare  as  ever. 
One  of  the  trees  had  life  and  the  other  had  no  life. 
Where  there  was  life,  the  sun  and  the  rain  called  out 
rich  beauty ;  where  there  was  no  life,  the  effect  of 
the  sun  and  rain  was  to  make  the  tree  even  more 
dreary  and  desolate  than  before.  Where  there  is 
spiritual  life  in  a  soul,  afflictions  call  it  out  until  it 
glows  in  every  feature ;  where  there  is  no  Christ  in 
the  heart,  afflictions  only  make  the  life  wither. 

Then  to  get  the  intended  benefit  of  the  ministry  of 
pain,  we  must  receive  it  as  God's  messenger.  Once 
in  the  days  of  old  three  strangers  came  to  a  good 
man's  tent  as  wayfaring  men.  He  courteously  opened 
his  doors  to  them  and  hospitably  entertained  them. 
It  turned  out  that  two  of  the  men  were  angels,  and 


170  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SUFFERING. 

the  third  was  the  Lord  Himself.  They  brought  their 
entertainer  messages  from  God,  and  then  departed, 
leaving  benedictions  in  his  home.  We  imagine  that 
all  angels  wear  radiant  dress  and  come  with  smiling 
face  and  gentle  voice.  Thus  artists  paint  them.  But 
truly  they  come  ofttimes  in  very  sombre  garb.  One 
writes : — 

"  All  God's  angels  come  to  us  disguised  : 
Sorrow  and  sickness,  poverty  and  death, 
One  after  other  lift  their  frowning  masks, 
And  we  behold  the  seraph's  face  beneath, 
All  radiant  with  glory  and  the  calm 
Of  having  looked  upon  the  face  of  God." 

We  should  receive  sorrow  always  reverently,  with 
welcome,  as  God's  messenger.  We  should  accept  its 
message,  even  in  our  pain,  as  a  word  from  God  Him- 
self. No  messenger  of  pain  ever  comes  without  a 
blessing  in  its  hot  hand  for  us.  If  we  welcome  it  as 
coming  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  it  will  leave  bene- 
dictions. Mrs.  Gilchrist  says  of  Mary  Lamb,  "She 
had  a  life-long  sorrow,  and  learned  to  find  its  com- 
panionship not  bitter."  It  is  possible  so  to  acquiesce 
in  God's  will  when  it  brings  pain  or  grief,  that  all  our 
life  shall  be  enriched  and  blessed  through  the  suffering. 

To  get  the  benefit  of  the  ministry  of  suffering  we 
must  seek  true  comfort.  Most  people  have  very 
imperfect  ideas  regarding  this  matter  of  comfort. 
They  suppose  that  if  they  can  cease  to  weep,  and 
resume  again  their  old  familiar  course  of  life,  they 
are  comforted.  They  think  only  of  getting  through 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SUFFERING.  171 

the  trial,  and  not  of  getting  anything  of  good  or 
blessing  out  of  it.  But  the  real  problem  in  enduring 
pain  is  not  to  bear  it  bravely,  without  wincing ;  to 
pass  through  it  patiently  and  even  rejoicingly ;  but 
to  get  from  it  new  strength  for  life,  new  purity  of 
soul,  new  revealings  of  God's  face,  more  of  the  love 
of  Christ  in  our  heart,  and  fresh  grace  for  obedience 
and  duty.  We  ought  to  get  something  good  out  of 
every  experience  of  pain,  some  new  victory  over  sin, 
some  fresh  impulse  for  service. 

When  we  have  passed  through  a  season  of  suffering 
and  stand  beyond  it,  there  ought  to  be  a  new  light 
in  our  eye,  a  new  glow  in  our  face,  a  new  gentleness 
in  our  touch,  a  new  sweetness  in  our  voice,  a  new 
hope  in  our  heart,  and  a  new  consecration  in  our  life. 
We  ought  not  to  stay  in  the  shadows  of  sorrow,  but 
should  come  again  to  the  place  of  service  and  duty. 
We  ought  not  to  permit  our  tears  to  flow  for  long, 
but  should  turn  our  grief  quickly  into  new  channels 
of  loving  devotion  and  active  usefulness.  When  we 
come  again  after  our  time  of  sorrow  or  pain,  our  face 
should  shine  as  did  the  face  of  Moses  when  he  came 
down  from  the  mount.  The  comfort  that  God  gives 
puts  deep  new  joy  into  the  heart,  and  anoints  the 
mourner  with  a  new  baptism  of  love  and  power.  We 
must  be  sure  to  get  true  comfort  when  we  are  in 
tribulation,  for  then  our  tribulation  will  help  to  fit 
us  for  the  glory  of  heaven. 

In  the  vision  of  the  Apocalypse  we  see  earth's 


172  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SUFFERING. 

mourners  beyond  all  their  tribulation.  Suffering  is 
not  to  last  always.  If  we  are  Christ's  disciples,  we 
are  going  through  it ;  we  must  go  through  it  to  reach 
heaven.  Glory  lies  beyond  the  veil  of  sorrow,  and 
we  must  go  through  the  dark  stream  to  reach  it. 
But  it  is  only  a  narrow  stream,  and  soon  we  shall 
have  crossed  it  and  shall  be  beyond  it  for  ever.  In 
the  wonderful  shepherd  psalm,  we  read  of  passing 
through  the  valley  of  shadows.  The  shepherd  leads 
his  flock  through  the  gloomy  vale  to  reach  pasture 
and  shelter  on  the  other  side.  Beyond  our  sorrows 
we  shall  find  blessedness.  The  pain  of  earth  will  be 
forgotten  in  the  joy  of  heaven,  and  the  joy  of  heaven 
will  be  richer  and  sweeter  because  of  earth's  pain. 


CHAPTER  XY. 

REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES. 

"  For  when  the  love  we  held  too  light 
Was  gone  away  from  our  speech  aud  sight, 

No  bitter  tears, 

No  passionate  words  of  fond  regret, 
No  yearning  of  grief,  could  pay  the  debt 

Of  thankless  years. 

"  Oh,  now,  while  this  kind  love  lingers  near, 
Grudge  not  the  tender  words  of  cheer, 

Leave  none  unsaid ; 
For  a  heart  can  have  no  sadder  fate 
Than  some  day  to  wake — too  late — 

And  find  love  dead  !  " 

r  I  ^HEKE  is  a  great  deal  of  power  for  evil  in 
A  human  speech.  Few  people  altogether  escape 
the  hurt  of  tongues.  No  name  is  pure  enough  to  be 
for  ever  safe  against  vile  insinuations,  cruel  aspersions. 
Even  Jesus,  whose  life  was  holy,  harmless,  separate 
from  sinners,  did  not  escape  the  slanderer's  tongue. 
It  is  strange  how  much  unloving  speech  there  is  in 
this  world.  On  the  smallest  provocation  men  become 
angry,  and  speak  violent  words.  Even  those  who 
profess  to  be  Christ's  too  often  lose  control  of  their 


174  REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES. 

speech,  and  say  words  which  cut  like  swords.  There 
are  homes  in  which  the  principal  talk  is  wrangling — 
the  strife  of  tongues.  There  are  children  with  tender 
souls  who  grow  up  in  the  midst  of  worldly  conten- 
tions, scarcely  ever  hearing  a  gentle  or  loving  word. 

Then  there  is  a  strife  of  tongues  around  us,  even 
when  the  words  are  not  spoken  against  us.  Think 
of  all  the  speech  one  must  hear  as  the  days  go  by, 
speech  that  is  not  loving,  helpful,  encouraging,  com- 
forting. The  gift  of  speech  is  one  of  the  noblest  that 
God  has  given  to  man.  It  was  meant  to  be  loving, 
true,  wise,  enriching,  and  full  of  blessing.  God  gave 
us  our  tongues  that  with  them  we  might  speak  to 
Him  in  prayer,  praise,  and  worship,  and  speak  to  our 
fellow-men  in  gladness,  in  love,  in  hope,  in  all  help- 
ful words. 

Our  Lord  has  told  us  that  for  every  idle  word 
that  men  speak  they  must  give  account.  For  every 
idle  word!  Notice  that  it  is  not  for  every  sinful 
word,  every  bitter  word,  every  false  word,  every 
impure  word  kindling  unholy  suggestions  which  may 
burst  into  flame  and  leave  the  whole  life  blackened. 
Of  course,  for  such  words,  words  that  lead  to  sin,  we 
must  give  account.  But  Jesus  said  that  we  must 
give  account  for  every  idle  word  we  speak.  Think 
of  the  idle  words  to  which  we  have  to  listen !  What 
is  the  larger  part  of  the  conversation  that  goes  on 
in  parlours,  in  clubs,  during  walks  and  rides  ?  Is  it 
wise,  good,  wholesome,  useful  talk  ?  Does  it  instruct, 


REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES.  175 

interest,  inspire,  stimulate?  People  chatter  on  for 
ever  aud  say  not  one  word  worth  remembering. 
Yet  we  cannot  get  away  from  this  strife  of  tongues. 

It  is  full  of  misrepresentations,  too,  reflections  on 
the  absent,  innuendoes,  suspicions,  criticisms,  censures. 
It  is  strange  how  much  of  the  talk  we  hear  is  about 
the  absent,  and  with  what  ruthless  unconcern  people 
say  evil  things  of  those  who  are  not  present  to  hear. 
Characters  are  discussed  and  dissected  as  if  they 
were  nothing  more  than  bits  of  clay.  Names  are 
taken  up  and  gossiping  tongues  whisper  their  hints 
of  scandal  even  of  those  whom  an  hour  before 
they  were  praising  obsequiously.  Keputations  are 
blighted.  It  is  the  rarest  thing  that  a  full,  hearty, 
honest  word  is  spoken  of  any  absent  one.  Evermore 
this  sad  chatter  about  people  goes  on  in  society. 
We  cannot  but  hear  it,  for  we  are  not  deaf;  but 
if  we  are  honourable,  charitable,  and  true-hearted, 
these  words  hurt  us.  We  need  a  refuge  from  them. 

"  The  strife  of  tongues ! "  How  truly  these  words 
picture  the  life  which  is  about  every  one  of  us ! 
And  men  and  women  with  sensitive  spirits  grow 
weary  of  it,  and  long  to  flee  away  to  some  quiet 
retreat,  where  they  shall  no  longer  be  hurt  by  the 
unending  strife.  So  much  inharmonious  talk  harms 
us.  We  grow  tired  of  hearing  criticism  and  fault- 
finding. It  worries  and  frets  us  to  be  nagged  at 
continually.  It  pains  us  to  know  that  those  we 
have  trusted  as  friends  should  have  spoken  of  us 


176  REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES. 

with  such  careless  tongue.  It  grieves  us  to  learn 
that  we  have  been  misjudged,  our  motives  miscon- 
strued, our  actions  misunderstood,  our  own  words 
perverted  and  their  meaning  misrepresented.  We 
get  weary  of  all  this,  and  sometimes  wish  we  had 
wings  like  a  dove,  that  we  might  fly  away  and  be 
at  rest 

The  same  psalm  that  gives  us  the  picture  of  the 
strife  of  tongues  also  unveils  the  refuge  we  want 
from  all  this  confusion  of  words. 

"  In  the  covert  of  thy  presence  shalt  them 

hide  them  from  the  plottings  of  man ; 
Thou  shalt  keep  them  secretly  in  a 

pavilion  from  the  strife  of  tongues." 

God  has  provided  a  refuge  into  which  we  may  flee, 
where  we  shall  not  be  hurt  by  the  strife  of  tongues. 
What  is  the  refuge  ? 

It  is  not  by  falling  in  ourselves  with  this  stream 
of  talk  that  we  escape  its  hurt.  That  is  our  danger. 
When  we  are  with  those  who  have  only  idle  words, 
empty  chit-chat,  on  their  tongues,  it  is  easy  for  us  to 
join  them  in  the  frivolous  speech.  When  we  hear 
others  gossiping  about  their  neighbours,  telling  bits 
of  news,  repeating  derogatory  stories,  hinting  suspi- 
cious things,  we  find  it  quite  natural  to  enjoy  it  all 
and  then  to  add  our  portion  to  the  common  stock. 
When  we  are  among  those  who  are  saying  unkindly 
things  of  another,  casting  arrows  of  censure,  sneer, 
or  sarcasm  at  the  good  name  of  an  absent  person, 


REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES.  177 

making  his  faults  a  subject  of  conversation,  holding  a 
sort  of  clinic  over  his  character,  and  dissecting  it  for 
their  own  wicked  delight,  how  easily  we  slip  into  the 
same  groove  of  talk,  unless  we  are  most  watchful. 

Who  has  never  caught  himself  laughing  at  the 
things  people  were  saying  about  some  dear  friend 
of  his,  and  even  adding  little  bits  which  his  own 
confidential  relation  of  friendship  had  permitted 
him  to  learn  about  his  friend  ?  Or  when  we  find 
ourselves  among  those  who  are  wrangling  over 
questions,  or  quarrelling  about  creeds  or  politics, 
or  something  else,  it  is  not  hard  for  us  to  take 
sides  and  wrangle  as  vigorously  as  the  others.  In 
a  home  where  strife  is  going  on  we  are  always  in 
danger  of  entering  into  and  adding  to  the  bitter- 
ness by  our  own  excited  and  exciting  words. 

This  is  not  the  refuge  from  the  strife  of  tongues 
which  God  provides.  It  may  be  the  easiest  thing 
just  to  drop  into  the  stream  and  drift  with  it,  but 
we  are  only  hurt  if  we  do  this  thinking  to  save 
ourselves  from  the  evil  of  other  men's  sins.  We  are 
deserting  our  colours  and  going  over  to  the  enemy. 
We  may  not  surrender  to  the  strife  of  tongues  to 
get  clear  of  the  pain  the  strife  causes.  We  must  be 
witnesses  for  Christ.  If  others  all  about  us  sin  with 
their  tongues,  we  must  be  sure  that  we  honour  our 
Master  either  in  speech  or  by  our  silence. 

Nor  may  we  seek  a  refuge  from  the  strife  of 
tongues  by  stoical  indifference.  If  the  talk  we 

(638)  12 


178  REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES. 

hear  concerns  ourselves  and  is  condemnatory,  we 
would  do  well  first  to  ask  whether  it  be  true, 
whether  the  things  said  of  us  may  not  have  at 
least  some  shadow  of  truth  in  them.  It  is  well 
for  many  of  us  that  we  must  live  in  an  atmosphere 
of  criticism.  If  others  always  spoke  well  of  us, 
invariably  commending  us,  it  would  make  us  proud 
and  self-conceited.  It  is  well  for  us  that  there 
always  are  those  about  us  who  are  ready  to  see 
our  faults  and  are  not  afraid  to  expose  them. 

Francis  Quarles  said:  "If  any  speak  ill  of  thee, 
flee  home  to  thine  own  conscience  and  examine 
thy  heart.  If  thou  be  guilty,  it  is  a  just  correction ; 
if  not  guilty,  it  is  a  fair  instruction.  Make  use  of 
both.  So  shalt  thou  distil  honey  out  of  gall,  and 
out  of  an  open  enemy  create  a  secret  friend." 

Nor  is  the  divine  refuge  from  the  strife  of  tongues 
found  in  flight.  It  may  be  the  easiest  thing  to  take 
the  wings  of  a  dove  and  fly  away.  Men  have  run 
to  the  covert  of  the  rocks  and  the  caverns,  to  the 
convent  or  the  monastery,  to  the  hermit's  cell,  to 
escape  this  unhallowed  strife.  But  that  is  not  the 
way  God  wants  us  to  do.  He  needs  us  in  the 
heart  of  society,  for  He  desires  us  to  witness  for 
Him.  We  are  to  let  our  light  shine  upon  the 
world's  darkness  to  dispel  it.  We  are  to  live  among 
those  who  are  not  good,  to  show  them  a  pattern 
of  true  and  beautiful  living.  You  find  yourself, 
for  example,  in  an  uncongenial  home.  The  spirit 


REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES.  179 

of  love  has  not  been  cultivated,  and  there  is  a 
strife  of  tongues  even  in  that  sacred  sanctuary. 
The  uncongenial  life  is  hurting  you.  You  feel 
like  fleeing  from  it.  But  probably  it  is  your  duty 
to  stay  there.  You  must  therefore  find  your  refuge 
in  the  midst  of  the  very  uncongenialities  which 
make  the  home  so  hard  a  place  for  you  to  live  in. 

The  same  is  true  of  most  of  our  environments. 
We  cannot  flee  out  of  them.  Our  duty  requires  us 
to  stay  where  we  are.  God  needs  us  where  He  has 
placed  us.  Flight  from  the  environment  would  be 
flight  from  duty ;  we  should  thus  prove  disloyal  to 
our  Master,  and  fail  in  our  search  for  shelter. 

But  there  is  a  refuge  which  we  can  find  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  strife  of  tongues.  They  tell  us 
that  when  the  terrible  cyclone  sweeps  over  a  country, 
there  is  a  spot  at  its  centre  which  is  so  quiet  and 
still  that  a  leaf  is  scarcely  stirred,  where  a  baby 
might  sleep  undisturbed.  So  at  the  centre  of  the 
sorest  strife  of  tongues  we  may  find  a  pavilion,  a 
place  of  peace,  where  no  hurt  can  come  to  us. 

How  can  we  find  it  ?  First  by  having  the  peace 
of  God  in  our  own  heart.  If  we  are  in  right  rela- 
tions with  God,  His  bosom  is  our  refuge.  In  the 
time  of  strife  we  can  always  turn  to  Him,  and  in  His 
presence,  in  His  love,  our  heart  can  be  at  rest.  Then 
we  must  keep  our  heart  ever  warm  and  loving  to- 
ward those  who  make  the  uncongenial  environment. 
Nothing  they  do  must  disturb  our  love  for  them.  If 


180  REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES. 

we  live  thus,  we  shall  have  a  pavilion  in  which  God 
will  ever  hide  us  from  the  strife  of  tongues.  The 
strife  will  cause  pain,  but  it  will  not  mar  the  sweet- 
ness of  our  spirit. 

There  are  plants  and  flowers  which  grow  in  the 
early  spring  under  the  snow-drifts,  and  are  not  hurt 
by  the  cold.  So  will  the  graces  of  the  heart  be  kept 
tender,  beautiful,  and  sweet  amid  the  harshest  uncon- 
genialities,  even  beneath  unkindnesses  and  cruelties,  if 
we  have  this  refuge  of  God's  love  into  which  to  flee. 

One  secret  of  security  from  the  hurt  of  tongues  is 
the  keeping  of  love  in  the  heart.  Slanders  or  bitter 
words  of  any  kind  can  harm  us  only  when  we  yield  to 
the  feeling  of  resentment  and  anger.  So  long  as  we 
continue  loving  through  all  the  strife,  we  are  hidden 
away  in  a  safe  refuge.  It  is  impatience  that  opens 
the  door  of  the  refuge  and  lets  harm  in.  The  sin  is 
not  in  being  tempted,  but  in  yielding  to  the  tempta- 
tion. Our  Lord  taught  us  to  pray  for  those  who  de- 
spitefully  use  us  and  persecute  us.  While  we  pray  for 
them,  their  cruel  words  have  no  power  to  hurt  us. 

We  have  in  Jesus  Christ  the  highest  example  of 
the  truth  of  this  lesson.  Never  about  any  other  life 
did  the  strife  of  words  rage  as  it  raged  about  Him. 
Men's  cruelty  knew  no  limit.  Poisoned  tongues 
emptied  their  most  envenomed  bitterness  about  Him. 
They  uttered  the  vilest  charges  against  Him.  They 
made  the  worst  accusations  against  His  character. 
They  pursued  Him  with  the  keenest  malice.  False- 


REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES.  181 

hood  did  its  worst  in  defaming  Him.  But  none  of 
these  things  hurt  Him.  He  kept  His  sweetness  of 
spirit,  His  serenity  of  soul,  through  all  the  strife  of 
words.  If  we  look  at  His  refuge,  we  find  that,  first, 
He  kept  love  in  His  heart  through  all  the  strife.  He 
never  grew  impatient.  No  bitterness  ever  entered 
His  soul,  no  anger,  no  feeling  of  resentment.  He 
never  once  returned  hate  for  hate,  but  only  and 
always  love  for  hate.  While  the  men  were  driving 
the  nails  in  His  hands  and  feet,  He  was  praying  for 
them.  "  Father,  forgive  them."  His  love  never  ebbed 
for  a  moment. 

We  can  stay  in  God's  pavilion  and  be  safe  from 
the  hurt  of  the  strife  of  tongues  only  when  we  keep 
ourselves  in  the  love  of  God.  If  we  grow  angry  and 
speak  unadvisedly,  or  let  our  heart  grow  bitter  and 
our  lips  utter  words  of  unkindness  or  resentment,  we 
have  sinned.  The  strife  has  hurt  us.  We  must  love 
on  and  pray  on,  and  seek  the  good  of  those  who  are 
treating  us  so  bitterly. 

The  language  of  the  psalm  is  very  beautiful. 
"  Thou  shalt  hide  them  "—Thy  children,  Thy  believ- 
ing ones — "in  the  secret  of  thy  presence,  from  the 
pride  of  man ;  thou  shalt  keep  them  secretly  in  a 
pavilion  from  the  strife  of  tongues."  That  is,  when 
the  world  wrongs  us,  or  assails  us  with  its  darts  of 
evil,  God  hides  us  in  the  secret  of  His  own  presence. 
When  a  child  comes  in  from  the  street,  alarmed, 
trembling,  from  the  midst  of  evil  that  has  threatened 


182  REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES. 

it,  the  mother  draws  it  close  to  her  own  side;  into  the 
secret  of  her  own  presence,  and  holds  it  there  until 
fear  is  quieted  and  all  danger  is  past.  That  is  the 
way  Christ  does  when  His  little  ones  are  trembling 
and  afraid  in  the  midst  of  the  strife  of  tongues. 
A  New  Testament  word  says,  "  Your  life  is  hid  with 
Christ  in  God."  What  need  we  care  for  the  world's 
worst  of  rage,  falsehood,  calumny,  and  unkindness, 
when  we  are  thus  hidden  in  God !  Men  cannot  hurt 
the  stars  by  flinging  stones  at  them ;  the  stars  are  hid- 
den in  God's  heavenly  refuge.  No  strife  of  tongues 
can  hurt  us  if  we  are  in  God's  pavilion  of  love. 

We  cannot  get  away  from  the  assailing  of  men's 
tongues.  We  must  hear  much  speech  that  hurts  or 
wounds,  and  much  that  wearies  and  saddens  us.  But 
we  can  be  so  hidden  in  Christ,  so  wrapped  in  the 
folds  of  His  garments,  so  held  in  His  heart  of  hearts, 
that  the  strife  shall  not  touch  us.  He  will  hide  us 
in  the  secret  of  His  presence  from  the  pride  of  man. 
He  will  keep  us  secretly  in  a  pavilion  from  the  strife 
of  tongues.  There  is  ever  need  for  fresh  lessons  on 
the  duty  of  loving  speech.  We  should  do  our  part 
to  quell  the  strife  of  tongues  in  this  world.  This  we 
can  do,  in  some  measure  at  least,  by  guarding  our 
own  lips  that  they  never  add  to  the  volume  of  this 
unseemly  strife.  We  can  fulfil  our  duty  yet  more 
adequately  if  we  continually  put  into  the  stream  of 
speech  sweet  words,  wholesome  words,  words  that  will 
prove  healing,  inspiring,  strengthening,  encouraging. 


REFUGE  FROM  STRIFE  OF  TONGUES.  183 

There  is  always  a  mission  for  good  words.  Incal- 
culable is  their  power  to  bless.  Immeasurable,  too, 
is  the  possibility  of  helpfulness  in  these  tongues  of 
ours.  Bitter  will  it  be  if  it  be  found  in  the  end  that 
we  have  failed  to  use  our  speech  to  bless  the  world. 
There  is  need  for  hearty  words  in  all  human  associa- 
tions. We  are  afraid  to  say  kind,  appreciative  things 
to  each  other,  even  to  those  we  love  the  best.  We 
keep  the  gentle  thoughts  sealed  up  along  the  years, 
till  our  friend  is  gone.  Then  by  his  coffin  our  lips 
are  unsealed,  when  true  words,  warm  with  love,  flow 
out.  But  of  what  use  are  they  then  ?  We  might  as 
well  keep  them  sealed  up. 

"  Year  after  year,  with  a  glad  content, 
In  and  out  of  our  home  he  went — 

In  and  out. 

Ever  for  us  the  skies  were  clear ; 
His  heart  carried  the  fret  and  fear, 
The  care  and  doubt. 

"  Our  hands  held  with  careless  hold 
All  that  he  won  of  power  and  gold, 

In  toil  and  pain. 

Oh  dear  hands  that  our  burdens  bore — 
Hands  that  shall  toil  for  us  no  more — 

Never  again ! 

"  Oh,  it  was  hard  to  learn  our  loss, 
Bearing  daily  the  heavy  cross — 

The  cross  he  bore ; 

To  say  with  an  aching  heart  and  head, 

'  Would  to  God  that  our  love  now  dead 

Were  here  once  more  1 ' " 


CHAPTER  XVZ 

FAITHFULNESS. 

4  With  God  there  is  no  great  nor  small, 
Save  as  we  yield  Him  part  or  all ; 
All  that  we  are  His  claim  demands — 
Spirit  and  brain  and  heart  and  hands ; 
Then,  be  our  lot  however  poor, 
Each  dawn  is  as  a  welcome  door, 
Each  humblest  act  the  wondrous  key 
Of  infinite  opportunity." 

DOHA  READ  GOODALE. 

NO  higher  praise  can  be  given  to  any  life  than 
to  say  it  has  been  faithful.  No  one  could 
ask  for  a  nobler  epitaph  than  the  simple  words,  "  He 
was  faithful."  This  will  be  the  commendation  given 
in  the  great  account  to  those  who  have  made  the 
most  of  their  talents:  "Thou  hast  been  faithful." 
Faithfulness  should  therefore  be  the  aim  in  all  our 
living.  It  is  not  great  things  that  God  expects  or 
requires  of  us,  unless  He  has  given  us  great  gifts  and 
opportunities;  all  He  requires  is  faithfulness.  He 
gives  us  certain  talents,  puts  us  in  certain  relations, 
assigns  to  us  certain  duties,  and  then  asks  us  to  be 
faithful — nothing  more.  The  man  with  the  plain 


FAITHFULNESS.  185 

gifts  and  the  small  opportunities  is  not  expected  to 
do  the  great  things  that  are  required  of  the  man 
with  the  brilliant  talents  and  the  large  opportunities. 

We  should  get  this  truth  fixed  deeply  in  our  mind, 
that  God  asks  of  no  one  anything  more  than  simple 
faithfulness.  Faithfulness  is  not  the  same  in  any 
two  persons.  In  the  man  who  has  five  talents  there 
must  be  a  great  deal  more  outcome  to  measure  up  to 
the  standard  of  faithfulness  than  in  the  man  who 
has  but  two  talents.  Faithfulness  is  simply  being 
true  to  God  and  making  the  most  of  one's  life.  Of 
those  who  have  received  little,  only  little  is  required ; 
where  much  has  been  received,  much  is  required. 
Never  is  anything  impossible  or  unreasonable  ex- 
pected of  any  one.  If  we  are  simply  faithful,  we 
shall  please  God. 

Jesus  said  of  Mary,  after  her  act  of  love,  when 
men  murmured  at  her,  "She  hath  done  what  she 
could."  What  had  she  done  ?  Very  little,  we  would 
say.  She  loved  Jesus  truly  and  deeply.  Then  she 
brought  a  flask  of  precious  ointment  and  broke  the 
flask,  pouring  the  sacred  nard  upon  her  Lord's  tired 
feet,  those  feet  which  soon  were  to  be  nailed  to  the 
cross.  That  was  one  of  the  ways  love  and  honour 
were  shown  in  those  days. 

What  good  did  it  do  ?  That  was  the  question  the 
disciples  asked.  We  know  it  wonderfully  comforted 
the  Saviour's  sorrowful  heart.  Amid  almost  univer- 
sal hatred,  here  was  one  of  His  friends  who  believed 


186  FAITHFULNESS. 

in  Him  still  Amid  madding  enmity  here  was  one 
who  loved  Him.  While  other  hands  were  weaving  a 
crown  of  thorns  for  His  brow,  to  be  put  on  Him  five 
days  hence,  and  others  still  were  forging  cruel  nails 
to  drive  through  His  feet,  Mary's  hands  were  pouring 
ointment  on  His  head  and  bathing  His  feet  with  the 
nard.  Who  will  say  that  Mary's  act  did  no  good  ? 
We  cannot  know  how  her  sweet,  pure,  loyal  love 
blessed  that  holy  life  in  its  anguish.  It  seemed  a 
little  thing,  but  little  thing  though  it  was,  it  gave 
the  heart  of  Jesus  a  thrill  of  joy  that  made  Him 
stronger  for  all  the  dark,  terrible  days  that  followed, 
and  for  that  blackest,  terriblest  day  of  all,  when  He 
hung  on  the  cross. 

Call  nothing  little  which  gives  comfort,  strength, 
courage,  or  cheer  to  a  manly  heart.  A  kindly  hand- 
shake, when  despair  was  wrapping  a  soul  in  folds  of 
gloom  and  driving  it  to  madness,  saved  a  life  from 
suicide.  A  sympathetic  word,  when  one  was  about 
to  yield  to  a  temptation  which  would  have  left 
shame,  dishonour,  and  ruin,  rescued  a  soul  and  saved 
it  for  purity,  beauty,  and  heaven.  We  do  not  know 
what  is  little.  What  seems  so  small  to  us  as  to  be 
almost  insignificant,  may  have  infinite  and  eternal 
consequences,  when  all  its  harvest  of  results  is 
gathered  up  in  the  judgment.  "  She  hath  done  what 
she  could."  That  was  blessed  praise  for  Mary.  That 
is  all  Christ  asks  of  any  of  us — just  the  best  we  can 
do.  He  never  asks  anything  we  cannot  do. 


FAITHFULNESS.  187 

But  let  us  not  forget  that  our  Master  always  does 
expect  and  require  of  each  of  us  what  we  can  do — 
all  that  we  can  do.  Faithful  as  a  measure  of  require- 
ment is  not  a  pillow  for  indolence.  It  is  not  a  letting 
down  of  obligations  to  a  low  standard,  to  make  life 
easy.  Faithfulness  is  a  lofty  standard.  "  She  hath 
done  what  she  could "  is  the  highest  commendation 
any  lips  can  ever  speak.  It  meant  that  with  her 
resources  Mary  could  have  done  nothing  better  that 
hour,  nothing  that  would  have  meant  more  to  her 
Lord  and  Friend.  The  man  with  the  one  talent,  who 
made  no  use  of  his  talent,  keeping  it  in  a  napkin, 
received  no  commendation,  "  Faithful  servant ! "  He 
had  done  nothing  with  his  life,  and  he  lost  all  that 
he  had.  Not  to  use  what  we  have  is  to  lose  it.  The 
stars  in  the  heavens  would  rot,  says  some  one,  if  they 
did  not  move.  Less  than  our  best  is  unfaithfulness. 
With  all  Christ's  patience  He  does  require  of  us  our 
best. 

This  divine  law  of  faithfulness  applies  to  all 
callings  in  life  and  to  every  kind  of  work.  Some 
people  try  to  make  a  separation  between  sacred  and 
secular  matters,  as  if  religion  applied  only  to  part  of 
a  man's  life.  But  there  is  a  moral  quality  in  every- 
thing that  a  moral  being  does.  The  judgment  of 
God  will  take  in  not  only  specifically  religious  acts, 
but  also  all  that  belongs  to  one's  business  or  trade. 

In  a  recent  story*  the  young  minister  calls  to  see 

•  "Hiram  Golf's  Religion." 


188  FAITHFULNESS. 

one  of  his  members  who  is  a  shoemaker.  He  finds 
him  busy  at  his  work,  and  sits  down  in  his  shop  for 
a  talk.  "I  am  glad  to  see  men  who  can  use  the 
humblest  vocation  for  the  glory  of  God,  as  you  are 
doing,"  said  the  minister,  as  the  conversation  went 
on.  The  shoemaker  replied  saying  there  was  no 
such  thing  in  this  wide  world  as  a  humble  vocation. 
"  You  are  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  by  the  grace  of 
God.  I  am  a  shoemaker,  by  the  grace  of  God.  If  I 
make  good  shoes,  I  shall  get  just  as  much  credit  in 
the  hereafter  as  you  will  for  being  a  faithful  pastor. 
All  work  is  noble  and  honourable." 

He  went  on  to  say  that  the  minister  would  carry 
up  to  the  judgment-seat  a  fair  sample  of  the  sermons 
he  had  preached,  and  he,  the  shoemaker,  would  carry 
up  a  fair  sample  of  the  shoes  he  had  made.  Both 
would  be  judged  by  the  quality  of  their  work. 
Goodness  is  goodness,  whether  you  find  it  in  the  mill- 
owner  or  in  a  spindle-tender.  The  old  shoemaker 
picked  up  a  pair  of  shoes  which  had  been  left  for 
mending.  "  If  that  boy  should  catch  cold  some  day 
and  get  pneumonia,  his  father,  who  is  poor,  would 
have  a  doctor's  bill  to  pay,  and  might  lose  the  child. 
I  propose  to  mend  the  shoes  as  though  my  salvation 
depended  on  it.  I  can't  afford,  as  a  child  of  God, 
with  a  hope  of  heaven,  to  put  poor  work  into  that 
job,  for  much  depends  on  it.  I  would  not  like  to 
meet  that  boy  up  yonder  and  have  him  tell  me  he 
died  because  I  was  not  a  faithful  shoemaker.  Do 


FAITHFULNESS.  189 

you  think  a  vocation  is  a  humble  one  when  it  deals 
with  the  health  and  life  of  our  fellow-creatures  ? " 

A  man  is  a  plumber.  Some  one  says,  "Religion 
has  nothing  to  do  with  plumbing."  But  really  it 
has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it.  The  health  of  a 
family  depends  largely  upon  the  character  of  the 
plumbing  in  their  house.  If  it  is  defective,  and 
typhoid  fever  or  diphtheria  creeps  into  the  happy 
home,  causing  suffering  and  perhaps  death,  will  God 
take  no  account  of  the  plumber's  negligence  ?  No 
matter  how  good  a  man  he  may  be,  how  consistent 
in  his  life  and  character,  how  earnest  in  Christian 
service,  he  has  proved  unfaithful  in  the  business  of 
his  life,  bringing  disaster  upon  a  household. 

Or  a  man  is  a  bricklayer.  In  building  the  flues  in 
a  house  he  is  careless  at  one  point,  near  the  end  of  a 
wooden  beam,  not  making  his  work  perfectly  safe. 
One  night,  years  afterward,  there  is  a  cry  of  fire  in 
the  house,  and  in  the  terror  and  confusion  a  child's 
life  is  lost.  The  origin  of  the  fire  was  a  defective 
flue.  Was  not  the  bricklayer  responsible  ?  Should 
there  be  no  religion  in  the  work  of  the  man  on 
whose  faithfulness  the  safety  of  our  dwellings  de- 
pends ? 

A  carriage -builder  uses  flawed  iron  in  an  axle. 
The  carriage  is  used  for  years  by  a  family,  bearing 
its  precious  burden  without  accident.  But  one  day, 
in  coming  down  a  steep  hill,  one  of  the  wheels  strikes 
a  stone,  and  in  the  jarring  the  axle  is  broken,  leading 


190  FAITHFULNESa 

to  &  serious  accident,  in  which  several  persons  are 
injured.  When  the  iron  broke  the  flaw  was  dis- 
covered. Is  there  no  place  for  religion  in  carriage- 
building?  Is  not  the  man  who  makes  axles  for 
carriages  his  brother's  keeper  ? 

We  may  apply  the  truth  to  the  work  of  each  man 
and  woman.  One  works  in  a  factory,  one  in  a 
machine-shop,  one  in  an  office,  one  in  a  store,  one  in 
a  school.  One  man  is  a  physician,  one  a  lawyer,  one 
a  merchant,  one  a  mechanic,  one  a  minister.  What- 
ever our  calling  is,  we  cannot  be  wholly  faithful  to 
God  unless  we  do  our  work  as  well  as  we  can.  To 
slur  it  is  to  do  God's  work  badly.  To  neglect  it  is  to 
rob  God.  The  work  of  the  universe  is  not  quite 
complete  without  our  part  of  its  work  well  done, 
however  small  that  part  may  be.  The  faithfulness 
which  Christ  requires  must  reach  to  the  way  the 
child  gets  his  lessons  and  recites  them ;  to  the  way 
the  dressmaker  and  the  tailor  sew  their  seams;  to 
the  way  the  blacksmith  welds  the  iron  and  shoes  the 
horse ;  to  the  way  the  carpenter  builds  his  house ;  to 
the  way  the  clerk  represents  the  goods  and  measures 
and  weighs  them.  "Be  thou  faithful"  rings  from 
heaven  in  every  ear,  in  every  smallest  piece  of  work 
we  are  doing. 

Another  application  of  the  lesson  is  to  promises. 
There  are  some  people  who  make  promises  freely, 
but  as  easily  fail  to  keep  them.  Surely  we  ought 
to  keep  sedulous  watch  over  ourselves  in  this  regard. 


FAITHFULNESS.  191 

Parents  and  older  persons  need  to  think  seriously  of 
the  effect  of  failing  to  keep  a  promise  made  to  a 
child.  "One  of  the  keenest  sorrows  of  childhood," 
says  one,  "  is  the  disappointment  that  comes  from 

unfulfilled   promises A  promise  carelessly  made 

to  a  child  will  often  be  cherished  and  depended  on 
for  many  months,  and  when  at  last  it  bears  no  fruit, 
the  child's  soul  receives  a  wound  which  is  very  slow 
to  heal."  It  is  told  of  Dr.  Livingstone  that  once  he 
had  promised  to  send  some  curiosities  from  Africa 
to  a  little  boy  in  England,  and  had  forgotten  to  do 
so.  The  boy's  father  was  writing  to  Dr.  Livingstone, 
and  the  little  fellow  added  a  postscript  reminding 
his  friend  of  his  promise.  Dr.  Livingstone  was  over- 
whelmed with  dismay  and  confusion  when  he  read 
the  postscript.  He  hastened  to  repair  the  wrong  he 
had  done,  and  refers  to  the  matter  again  and  again, 
with  evident  pain,  feeling  sure,  he  says,  that  the  boy 
would  forgive  him  if  he  knew  how  much  he  had 
suffered  by  his  fault.  This  great  tenderness  in  the 
heart  of  the  great  missionary  over  his  failure  to  keep 
his  promise  to  the  child  shows  the  nobleness  of  his 
nature. 

It  is  told  also  of  Sir  William  Napier,  that  when 
walking  one  day  in  the  country,  he  met  a  little  girl 
in  sore  distress  over  the  breaking  of  a  bowl  she  had 
been  carrying.  He  comforted  the  child  by  telling 
her  that  he  would  give  her  sixpence  to  buy  another 
bowl.  But  he  found  he  had  no  money,  not  even 


192  FAITHFULNESS. 

sixpence,  in  his  pocket.  He  then  promised  to  meet 
the  child  at  the  same  hour  the  next  day,  at  the  same 
spot,  and  to  bring  her  the  money.  The  child  went 
away  very  happy.  When  Sir  William  reached  home, 
however,  he  found  an  invitation  to  dine  on  the  mor- 
row with  some  distinguished  people,  whom  he  greatly 
wished  to  see.  But  he  declined  the  invitation  at 
once,  telling  his  family  of  the  promise  he  had  made 
to  the  child,  and  saying,  "I  cannot  disappoint  her, 
for  she  trusted  ro 


That  is  the  true  spirit  of  faithfulness.  A  promise 
made  to  a  child  or  to  the  lowliest  or  most  unworthy 
person  should  be  kept,  no  matter  how  hard  it  may 
be  to  keep  it.  One  of  the  psalms  gives  as  a  mark  of 
a  good  man,  that  when  he  sweareth,  even  to  his  own 
hurt,  he  changeth  not.  "  I  entirely  forget  my  pro- 
mise," one  says,  as  if  forgetting  it  were  much  less  a 
sin  than  deliberately  breaking  it.  We  have  no  right 
to  forget  any  promise  we  make  to  another.  It  is 
a  noble  thing  to  find  one  whom  we  can  absolutely 
depend  on,  whose  promise  we  are  as  sure  of  as  we 
are  of  the  rising  sun,  whose  simplest  word  is  as  good 
as  his  oath,  who  does  just  what  he  says  he  will  do, 
at  the  moment  he  says  he  will  do  it. 

In  learning  the  lesson  of  faithfulness,  we  need  to 
train  ourselves  to  unrelaxing  self-discipline.  We  are 
in  danger  of  being  altogether  too  lenient  with  our 
faults  and  too  tolerant  of  our  sins,  making  too  little 
of  our  failures,  and  not  holding  ourselves  rigidly  to 


FAITHFULNESS.  193 

account.  The  only  safety  lies  in  habits  of  utmost 
exactness.  It  is  related  of  a  young  book-keeper, 
that  just  as  his  summer  vacation  was  about  to  begin, 
he  found  a  mistake  of  eight  cents  in  his  accounts, 
which  footed  up  half  a  million.  Instead  of  going  on 
his  vacation,  the  young  man  set  to  work  to  find  the 
error.  He  found  it,  after  two  weeks'  search — thus 
losing  his  entire  vacation.  His  victory  over  himself 
made  him  ever  after  a  stronger  man.  If  there  were 
more  of  such  self -discipline,  there  would  be  fewer 
failures  and  wrecks  of  character. 

Judge  Tourgee,  in  one  of  his  books,  tells  of  a 
young  soldier,  scarce  a  month  from  his  peaceful 
home,  standing  now  in  the  excitement  of  the  field, 
and  asking  in  a  tense  whisper,  with  white,  quivering 
lips,  "  Do  you  think  there  will  be  a  battle  ? "  Almost 
as  he  spoke  there  leaped  from  a  wooded  crest  near 
by  flashing  tongues  of  flame,  that  brought  death  to 
hundreds.  Later  in  the  terrible  struggle  this  brave 
boy  was  still  at  his  post.  The  weakened  line  was 
wavering,  however,  and  the  lad's  brother,  an  old 
veteran,  saw  it,  and  rushed  for  an  instant  from  his 
post  of  duty,  and  sought  along  the  trembling  line  for 
the  boy  he  loved  as  his  own  soul.  As  his  eyes  fell 
upon  him,  faithful  still,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
lad's  shoulder,  and  said,  "Be  a  man,  John."  The 
tide  of  battle  ebbed  and  flowed ;  and  when  the  moon 
rose  after  that  tumultuous  day,  its  pale  beams  shone 
on  John's  face,  white  and  cold,  lying  where  he  had 

(538)  13 


194  FAITHFULNESS. 

stood,  his  feet  the  very  foremost  in  the  pallid  ranks 
toward  the  foe. 

We  are  all  in  a  battle  which  will  not  end  for  us 
until,  in  our  turn,  the  moon's  beams  shine  down 
upon  each  of  our  faces  as  we  sleep  on  the  field. 
We  must  be  faithful.  Then  at  the  end,  when  we 
stand  before  God  and  make  report  of  what  we  have 
done,  we  shall  hear  the  approving  word :  "  Thou 
hast  been  faithful."  It  will  be  better  to  have  that 
at  the  close  of  life — "Thou  hast  been  faithful" — 
than  to  wear  earth's  brightest  crown,  and  be  un- 
faithful— failing  God. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  LAW  OF  USE  AND  DISUSE. 

"  We  thank  Thee,  Master  of  our  lives,  to  whom 
At  last  we  all,  from  varying  earthly  task, 
Shall  render  our  account,  that  Thou  wilt  ask 
No  trivial  daily  record  as  we  come  ; 
That  what  we  gain  in  thoughts  and  deeds  of  love 
Throughout  our  service,  be  it  long  or  short, 
Is  the  one  record  that  shall  then  be  brought 
To  test  our  fitness  for  the  life  above. 

J  To  us  the  weary  hours  and  days  seem  now 

I  Too  often  but  an  idle  tale.    We  grieve 

/  O'er  passing  moments,  and  forget  that  Thou 
I    Dost  reckon  not  by  time,  and  that  Thy  love, 
In  summing  up  our  human  lives  at  last, 
Will  count  the  heart-throbs,  not  the  moments  passed." 

MABY  G.  SIXXJUM. 

WE  are  doing  business  in  this  world  for  Christ. 
Each  one  of  us  has  something  of  His,  a 
pound,  which  He  has  entrusted  to  us  to  trade  with 
as  His  agent.  Our  life  itself,  with  all  its  powers,  its 
endowments,  its  opportunities,  its  privileges,  its 
blessings,  is  our  pound.  We  are  not  our  own.  We 
are  not  in  this  world  merely  to  have  a  good  time  for 
a  few  years.  Life  is  a  trust.  We  are  not  done  with 


196  THE  LAW  OF  USE  AND  DISUSE. 

it  when  we  have  lived  it  through  to  its  last  day. 
We  must  render  an  account  of  it  to  Him  who  gave 
it  to  us.  Our  business  is  to  show  gains  through  our 
trading  with  our  Lord's  money.  We  are  required  to 
make  the  most  possible  of  our  life. 

People  often  speak  of  the  solemnity  of  dying.  But 
it  is  a  great  deal  more  solemn  thing  to  live.  Dying 
is  only  giving  back  into  God's  hand  His  own  gift — 
life — and  if  we  have  lived  well,  dying  is  victory,  is 
glory,  the  trampling  of  life's  opaque  dome  to  frag- 
ments, as  our  soul  bursts  into  blessedness.  But  it  is 
living  that  is  serious  and  solemn.  Life,  to  its  last 
particle,  is  our  Lord's  property,  entrusted  to  us  to  be 
used  so  that  it  shall  grow.  Then  comes  the  judg- 
ment, with  its  accounting  and  its  rewards.  We  shall 
have  to  look  up  into  our  Lord's  face  and  toll  Him 
what  we  have  done  with  the  pound,  the  life  that 
has  been  entrusted  to  us  to  keep  and  to  use. 

The  Lord  does  not  put  a  large  amount  of  His 
money  into  the  hand  of  any  one  to  begin  with — 
only  one  pound,  as  the  parable  has  it.  It  is  not 
much,  but  it  is  as  much  as  we  are  capable  of  using 
well  at  first,  until  we  have  acquired  more  experience. 
Besides,  it  is  enough  to  test  our  faithfulness.  If  we 
do  well  with  the  little,  He  will  trust  us  with  more. 
Doing  business  with  a  small  amount  also  trains  us 
so  that  by-and-by  we  may  care  for  a  larger  sum. 
Most  successful  business  men  had  very  little  to  begin 
with.  They  handled  the  little  well,  and  it  increased 


THE  LAW  OF  USE  AND  DISUSE.  197 

into  more.  Meantime,  the  men  themselves  grew 
into  greater  ability  and  wisdom,  through  experience, 
until  now  they  manage  a  large  business  as  easily  as 
at  first  they  managed  the  little  they  had. 

It  is  the  same  in  all  life.  The  child  at  school  has 
but  little  mental  ability,  but  it  has  enough  to  begin 
with,  enough  to  show  its  spirit  and  test  its  faithful- 
ness. If  it  uses  the  little  well,  the  ability  will 
increase.  God  gives  into  no  man's  hand  at  the 
beginning  a  finely -trained,  fully -developed  mind. 
The  great  poets,  artists,  philosophers,  and  writers  of  / 
the  world  began  with  only  one  pound.  Christ  gives 
no  one  at  the  start  a  noble,  full-statured  Christian 
character,  with  spiritual  graces  all  blossoming  out. 
The  most  saintly  Christian  began  with  very  little 
saintliness.  The  most  useful  man  in  the  church 
began  with  a  very  small  and  imperfect  sort  of  use- 
fulness. Those  whose  influence  for  good  now  touches 
thousands  of  lives,  extends  over  whole  communities, 
or  fills  an  entire  country  or  the  world,  had  nothing 
to  begin  with  but  one  little  pound  of  capacity,  which 
the  Master  entrusted  to  them. 

The  growth  of  the  life  depends  upon  the  degree 
of  energy  and  faithfulness  shown  by  each  person. 
In  the  parable,  one  man's  pound  made  ten  pounds 
more ;  another's  made  five  pounds.  The  first  of 
these  men  is  a  type  of  those  who  make  the  most 
possible  of  their  life.  This  man  did  not  fret  be- 
cause he  had  so  little  to  begin  with.  He  began  with 


198  THE  LAW  OF  USE  AND  DISUSE. 

enthusiasm,  with  energy,  and  with  the  utmost  dili- 
gence and  fidelity,  to  make  the  most  of  his  one  pound. 
As  he  used  it,  it  increased.  The  increase  he  also 
used,  and  the  money  grew,  until,  when  his  lord  re- 
turned, he  laid  down  at  his  feet  a  gain  of  a  thou- 
sand per  cent. 

The  high  places  in  life  have  not  come  to  men  by 
chance,  or  by  any  providential  partiality  in  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  gifts  and  favours  of  life  ;  they  have 
all  been  won  by  energy,  faithfulness,  and  toil. 

We  find  these  ten-pound  servants  also  among  the 
followers  of  Christ.  They  are  those  Christians  who 
from  the  beginning  strive  to  reach  the  best  things 
in  divine  grace.  They  set  their  ideal  of  obedience 
to  Christ  at  the  mark  of  perfectness.  They  seek  to 
follow  Christ  with  their  whole  heart.  They  are 
faithful  to  every  duty  without  regard  to  its  cost. 
They  strive  to  be  like  Christ  in  all  the  elements  and 
features  of  His  character.  They  give  their  whole 
energy  to  the  work  and  service  of  Christ.  So  these 
men  and  women  grow  at  last  into  a  saintliness,  a 
spiritual  beauty,  and  a  power  of  usefulness  and  of 
influence  by  which  they  are  set  apart  among  Chris- 
tians, shining  with  brighter  lustre  than  other  stars 
in  the  galaxy.  Their  one  pound  has  made  other 
ten. 

The  other  servant  whose  pound  made  five  pounds 
also  did  well,  but  not  so  well  as  the  first.  He  did 
not  do  all  that  he  might  have  done  with  his  lord's 


THE  LAW  OF  USE  AND  DISUSE.  199 

money.  He  was  not  so  earnest  as  his  fellow-servant, 
not  so  active,  not  so  diligent,  not  so  unsparing  in 
toil,  not  so  persistent  in  endeavour,  not  so  heroic  in 
conquering  obstacles  and  difficulties.  This  man  is  a 
type  of  a  great  mass  of  people  in  the  world.  They 
are  good,  but  not  so  good  as  they  might  have  been. 
They  do  well  with  their  life,  but  not  so  well  as  they 
might  have  done.  They  might  have  made  ten 
pounds  for  their  Lord,  while  they  made  only  five. 

It  is  so  in  trades  and  all  business.  Many  are 
satisfied  just  to  get  along.  They  work  as  few  hours 
as  possible.  They  are  self-indulgent.  As  a  conse- 
quence they  make  little  progress  through  the  years. 
They  are  no  better  workmen,  no  better  business  men, 
no  better  physicians  or  preachers,  at  fifty  than  they 
were  at  thirty.  They  are  fairly  prosperous,  but  they 
do  not  do  their  best.  The  same  is  true  in  schools. 
There  are  many  who  do  well,  but  who  might  do  far 
better.  They  are  easy-going,  indisposed  to  toil  and 
struggle.  They  come  at  last  with  five  pounds  gain 
in  their  hand  when  they  might  have  brought  ten. 
Many  people  do  not  make  the  most  possible  of  their 
spiritual  gifts  and  privileges.  They  grow  in  grace, 
but  their  path  might  have  been  like  the  shining 
light.  They  might  have  more  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in 
their  hearts,  more  of  the  gentleness,  the  sweetness, 
the  beauty  of  the  Lord,  in  their  lives.  They  might 
be  of  more  use  to  Christ.  They  bring  five  pounds 
increase  when  they  might  have  brought  ten. 


200  THE  LAW -OF  USE  AND  DISUSE. 

The  principle  on  which  the  rewards  of  life  are 
given  may  be  called  the  law  of  use.  One  man 
brought  his  ten  pounds  gained  by  diligent  and 
faithful  using  of  the  one  which  had  been  entrusted 
to  him  to  trade  with.  He  had  shown  such  ability 
and  fidelity  in  caring  for  the  little  that  had  been  left 
in  his  hands,  that  his  lord  now  put  more  of  his 
interests  in  his  keeping.  He  had  done  well  with 
money :  now  the  care  of  cities  was  entrusted  to  him. 
That  is,  one  who  does  well  with  a  small  trust  is 
rewarded  with  a  larger  one ;  and  the  reward  is  pro- 
portionate to  the  diligence  and  faithfulness  one  has 
shown  in  the  smaller  trust. 

The  law  of  increase  is.  the  law  of  use.  "Thy 
pound  hath  made  ten  pounds  more."  By  using  the 
little  we  jhave  we  get  more.  This  is  true  in  all  life. 
It  is  true  in  the  business  world.  The  poor  boy  uses 
his  first  shilling  wisely,  and  soon  has  two  shillings. 
He  goes  on  investing,  trading,  toiling,  and  his  money 
grows  until  he  is  a  millionaire.  It  is  the  same  in 
mental  growth.  The  young  people  start  in  school 
with  nothing.  They  struggle  with  hard  problems, 
year  after  year,  until  at  last  they  come  out  with 
trained  minds,  disciplined  powers.  Use  has  brought 
its  reward.  The  same  prevails  in  spiritual  life.  j*he 
Wciy  to  get  more  love  is  to  love:  love  grows  by 
loving.  The  way  to  become  stronger  in  resisting 
evil  and  overcoming  temptation  is  always  to  resist 
and  to  conquer.  Every  battle  we  win  makes  us 


THE  LAW  OF  USE  AND  DISUSE.  201 

braver  and  a  better  soldier.  Every  effort  we  make 
lifts  us  a  little  nearer  to  God. 

The  way  to  become  more  gentle  and  loving  is  to 
keep  our  heart's  affections  always  in  exercise.  A 
kind  feeling  put  into  an  act  does  not  exhaust  the 
kindness  and  empty  the  fountain,  but  leaves  more 
kindness  in  the  heart.  A  young  man  finds  it  hard 
to  rise  in  a  meeting  and  read  one  verse  or  offer  a 
prayer  of  one  sentence.  He  does  his  duty,  however, 
and  soon  he  is  an  acceptable  speaker,  and  in  a  few 
years  he  is  preaching  the  gospel  with  eloquence  and 
power.  Use  developed  his  gifts. 

The  building  of  character  should  be  our  central 
aim  in  life.  Business,  school,  home,  church,  reading, 
pleasure,  struggle,  work,  sorrow — all  are  but  means 
to  the  one  end.  It  matters  little  how  much  money 
a  man  made  last  year,  but  it  is  of  vital  importance 
what  mark  last  year's  business  made  upon  his 
character.  The  increase  of  one's  fortune  is  of  but 
small  importance  in  comparison  with  the  growth  of 
one's  manhood.  Everything  we  do  leaves  an  impres- 
sion upon  us  as  well  as  on  the  work  we  are  doing. 
We  are  building  life  all  the  while.  The  thing  we  do 
may  be  a  blessing  in  the  world,  but  apart  from  this 
it  affects  ourself.  A  man's  work  may  fail ;  yet  even 
in  failure  the  work  on  his  character  goes  on.  If  we 
do  our  very  best,  though  nothing  else  may  come  of 
it  in  the  world,  yet  in  ourselves  there  cannot  but  be 
noble  result  Faithfulness  and  energy  never  fail  of 


202  THE  LAW  OP  USE  AND  DISUSE. 

their  reward  in  character,  even  though  the  hands  be 
empty  when  life  is  done.  "  He  that  doeth  the  will 
of  God  abideth  for  ever."  The  reward  comes  in  the 
doing,  not  in  what  we  gather  in  our  doing. 

"  In  the  strength  of  the  endeavour, 
In  the  temper  of  the  giver, 
In  the  loving  of  the  lover, 
Lies  the  hidden  recompense. 

"  In  the  sowing  of  the  sower, 
In  the  fading  of  the  flower, 
In  the  fleeting  of  each  hour, 
Lurks  eternal  recompense." 

Thus  it  is  that  using  produces  growth,  increase. 
Use  what  you  have,  and  it  will  become  more ;  trade 
with  your  pound,  and  it  will  multiply.  The  law  of 
growth  is  the  law  of  use.  So  we  see  that  the  reward 
that  God  gives  for  faithfulness  is  not  ease,  but  en- 
larged responsibility.  So  long  as  we  do  well  what 
God  wants  us  to  do,  and  are  faithful  in  what  of  His 
He  entrusts  to  us,  He  still  gives  us  more  duty  and 
adds  to  our  stewardship. 

Then  loss  comes  through  disuse.  One  man  brought 
his  pound  carefully  wrapped  up.  He  had  done 
nothing  with  it.  This  man  is  not  described  as  speci- 
ally wicked.  He  was  not  condemned  for  what  he 
did,  but  for  what  he  did  not.  He  did  not  use  his 
gift  in  harming  others.  He  did  not  misuse  God's 
gift.  His  sin  lay  in  not  using.  He  did  not  embezzle. 
He  did  not  gamble  away  his  pound  He  did  not 


THE  LAW  OF  USE  AND  DISUSE.  203 

waste  it  in  any  foolish  speculation.  He  kept  it 
securely.  One  day  the  master  came  again.  The 
servants  were  all  called  to  report  what  they  had 
gained  with  the  portions  left  in  their  hands.  Then 
this  poor  man  hunted  up  his  pound,  and  brought  it 
out  from  its  hiding-place.  Unrolling  the  napkin, 
there  was  the  money,  bright,  shining  gold,  undimmed. 
"  Here  is  thy  pound  which  I  kept."  But  that  was 
not  what  the  lord  wanted ;  he  wanted  gains  made 
by  trading.  So  the  pound  was  taken  away  from  the 
servant  who  had  made  no  use  of  it. 

Here  then  we  get  our  lesson.  Not  to  use  is  to 
lose.  The  penalty  upon  uselessness  is  the  loss  of 
power  to  be  useful.  There  is  an  Oriental  story  of  a 
merchant  who  gave  to  each  of  two  friends  a  sack  of 
grain  to  keep  till  he  should  call  for  it.  Years  passed, 
and  at  last  he  claimed  his  property.  One  of  his 
friends  led  him  to  a  field  of  waving  grain,  and  said, 
"  This  is  all  yours."  The  other  took  him  to  a  granary, 
and  pointed  out  to  him  as  his  a  rotten  sack  full  of 
wasted  grain.  Use  yielded  a  golden  harvest  and 
honour;  disuse  yielded  only  decay  and  dishonour. 
It  is  something  appalling  to  think  of  the  possibilities 
of  people's  minds — faculties  which  by  proper  use 
might  have  been  developed  to  brilliant  power,  but 
which,  because  never  developed  by  use,  have  lain 
wrapped  up  in  a  napkin,  and  at  last  have  perished 
altogether  in  the  brain.  Men  fail  to  exercise  their 
spiritual  vision,  and  live  in  darkness  until  their 


204  THE  LAW  OF  USE  AND  DISUSE. 

soul's  eyes  die  out,  and  they  cannot  see  spiritual 
things  if  they  would.  Not  to  love  God  in  life's 
earlier  days  takes  away  from  the  heart  at  length  the 
power  to  love  Him.  This  is  the  solution  of  that 
mystery  of  the  hardening  of  the  heart  which  per- 
plexes so  many  Bible  readers.  Long-time  shutting 
of  the  heart  against  God  leaves  it  incapable  of  open- 
ing. The  power  to  love  unexercised  dies  out. 

There  is  a  truth  here  which  ought  to  startle  us  if 
we  are  not  living  at  our  very  best.  Not  to  believe 
on  Christ — continuance  in  unbelief  and  rejection — is 
at  length  to  lose  the  power  to  believe.  Not  to  lift 
up  the  heart  and  the  eyes  to  God — continuance  in 
thus  turning  away  from  God — is  at  length  to  be 
incapable  of  loving  God.  Not  to  follow  the  Christ 
— persistence  in  refusing  to  be  His  disciple — is  at 
length  to  find  one's  self  unable,  even  under  the  most 
fearful  pressure  of  judgment  and  eternity,  to  become 
even  Christ's  lowliest  follower.  The  spiritual  powers 
long  unused  die  out,  and  then  a  man  is  dead  while 
he  lives. 

In  the  Koran  there  is  a  story  of  certain  dwellers 
by  the  Dead  Sea  to  whom  Moses  was  sent  with 
messages  from  God.  But  they  sneered  at  him,  and 
refused  to  listen  to  his  message.  When  next  found, 
the  Koran  says,  they  had  all  become  apes.  By  not 
using  their  souls  they  lost  them. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PRAYER   FOR  DIVINE  SEARCHING. 

"  Lord,  many  times  I  am  aweary  quite 

Of  my  own  self,  my  sin  and  vanity ; 

Yet  be  not  Thou,  or  I  am  lost  outright, 

Weary  of  me. 

"  And  bate  against  myself  I  often  bear, 

And  enter  with  myself  in  fierce  debate ; 
Take  Thou  my  part  against  myself,  nor  share 
In  that  just  hate. 

"  Best  friends  might  loathe  ua,  if  what  things  perverse 

We  know  of  our  own  selves  they  also  knew ; 
Lord,  Holy  One,  if  Thou  who  knowest  worse 
Shouldst  loathe  us  too ! " 

ARCHBISHOP  TRENCH. 

IN  one  of  the  psalms  there  is  au  intense  and  deeply 
earnest  prayer  for  divine  searching :   "  Search 
me,  O  God,  and  know  my  heart ;  try  me,  and  know 
my  thoughts;  and  see  if  there  be  any  wicked  way 
in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  everlasting."     If  we 
make  this  prayer  sincerely,  out  of  our  heart,  it  will 
bring  us  into  very  close  quarters  with  God.     It  will 
open  every  chamber,  every  corner,  every  nook  and 
cranny  of  our  life,  to  the  eye  that  is  omniscient. 
It  takes  courage  to  pray  this  prayer.     Not  all  men 


206  PRAYER  FOR  DIVINE  SEARCHING. 

can  do  it.  Many  people  fear  to  look  into  their  own 
heart.  If  by  some  divine  flash  we  were  made  to  see 
ourselves  as  we  are,  all  the  evil  that  is  in  us,  all  the 
hideous  things  that  lurk  in  the  depths  of  our  being, 
our  faces  would  blanch  into  deathly  paleness. 

It  takes  boldness  to  ask  God  to  search  one's  inner 
life  and  show  one  one's  sins.  It  takes  honesty,  too, 
to  pray  this  prayer.  It  means  that  every  wrong 
thing  we  find  in  our  heart,  under  the  calcium  light 
of  God's  Word  and  Spirit,  we  will  give  up  and  cast 
out.  Some  people  do  not  want  to  find  their  sins, 
because  they  do  not  want  to  give  them  up.  We 
cannot  pray  this  prayer  if  we  are  not  willing  and 
eager  to  have  Christ  save  us  from  whatever  evil 
way,  whatever  sinful  habit,  feeling,  disposition,  or 
temper  we  discover  in  ourselves. 

There  is  another  thing  to  mark  in  this  prayer. 
We  ask  God  to  search  us.  An  ancient,  much-praised 
maxim  was,  "  Know  thyself."  But  no  man  can  really 
know  himself,  in  the  depths  of  his  being,  unless  God 
holds  the  lamp  to  shine  in  the  darkness.  None  but 
God  can  search  us  and  show  us  to  ourselves. 

This  is  not  a  prayer  that  our  neighbours  may 
search  us.  Men  are  willing  enough,  ofttimes,  to 
judge  their  fellow-men,  to  expose  their  faults,  and 
proclaim  their  sins.  It  is  easier  for  most  of  us  to 
confess  other  people's  sins  than  our  own.  The 
Pharisee  was  quite  free  in  searching  the  publican 
and  declaring  his  wrong-doings,  though  he  said 


PRAYER  FOR  DIVINE  SEARCHING.  207 

nothing  of  his  own.  We  might  find  those  who 
would  be  willing  to  search  us  and  point  out  our 
blemishes,  but  this  is  not  what  we  are  taught  to  do. 
Men's  judgments  are  imperfect,  sometimes  unchari- 
table, even  unjust.  There  are  lives  that  go  down 
under  men's  condemnation  whom  love  would  save. 
At  the  best,  men  are  only  very  partial  judges.  They 
cannot  see  our  motives,  and  ofttimes  they  condemn 
as  wrong  that  which  is  noble  and  beautiful ;  or  they 
approve  as  right  and  praiseworthy  that  which  before 
God  is  unworthy.  It  is  not  enough  to  ask  men  to 
search  us  and  to  try  us.  If  they  should  approve  and 
commend  us,  their  approval  might  be  of  no  value  to  us. 
But  there  is  One  who  is  perfect  in  wisdom,  love, 
and  righteousness,  and  whose  judgments  are  unerr- 
ing. We  should  always  want  to  know  what  He 
thinks  of  our  acts,  words,  and  thoughts.  Though 
all  the  world  applaud  what  we  do,  and  praise  us 
without  stint,  if  on  His  face  there  is  no  mark  of 
approval,  if  we  see  there  the  shadow  of  disapproval, 
what  a  mockery  is  men's  applause!  If  the  world 
sneer,  condemn,  and  blame ;  if  men  have  only  scorn 
and  reproach;  and  if  meanwhile,  turning  our  eyes 
toward  the  heavenly  throne,  we  see  in  the  divine 
face  the  smile  of  approval,  what  need  we  care  for 
the  frowns  of  men  ?  It  is  to  God  we  should  turn 
for  the  searching  of  our  life.  No  human  approval 
can  bless  when  He  does  not  bless ;  no  human  sen- 
tence can  bind  when  He  sets  at  liberty. 


208  PRAYER  FOR  DIVINE  SE ARCHING. 

It  is  better  always  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  God 
than  into  the  hands  of  men.  God  is  kindlier  and 
juster  than  men.  Nobody  understands  us  as  Christ 
does.  Nobody  knows  our  infirmities  as  Christ  knows 
them,  and  no  one  has  such  patience  with  them  as 
He  has.  He  knows  human  life — this  blessed  Lord 
of  ours — by  actual  experience.  He  was  tempted  in 
all  points  like  as  we  are ;  He  knows  how  hard  it  is 
to  resist  temptation  and  to  be  good.  He  knows  all 
the  elements  that  enter  into  human  struggle,  and 
therefore  is  fitted  for  sympathy.  We  need  not  be 
afraid  to  open  our  heart  to  Him,  for  He  will  never 
be  unjust  with  us.  We  need  not  fear  to  ask  Him 
to  search  us ;  for  if  we  truly  desire  to  give  up  our 
sins  when  we  discover  them,  we  shall  find  Him  most 
merciful  and  gracious. 

All  our  life  is  open  to  God's  eye.  The  old  psalm 
makes  this  wonderfully  clear:  "Thou  knowest  my 
downsitting  and  mine  uprising."  God's  eye  is  upon 
us  in  our  every  movement,  in  our  resting  and  in  our 
working.  "  Thou  understandest  my  thought  afar 
off."  He  knows  our  thought  not  only  when  it  has 
taken  final  form,  but  in  its  first  dim  rising.  He  sees 
the  whole  working  of  our  mind,  all  our  imaginations, 
feelings,  desires,  the  secret  springs  of  our  heart,  out 
of  which  flow  all  the  streams  of  thought,  fancy,  wish, 
and  act.  Sometimes  we  come  to  the  brink  and  look 
down  into  the  depths  of  our  own  being,  and  we  see 
things  that  there  appall  us.  We  get  glimpses  of  mo- 


PRAYER  FOR  DIVINE  SEARCHING.  209 

tives  which  seem  to  blot  the  beauty  of  our  fairest  deeds. 
We  see  shadowy  shapes  of  evil  lurking  there  that  are 
hideous  to  our  eyes.  We  find  in  the  abysses  of  our 
own  nature  possibilities  of  sin  that  startle  us.  But 
all  that  our  eyes  see  in  our  hearts,  even  in  glimpses, 
God  sees  continually,  and  far  more.  He  knows  us 
infinitely  better  than  we  can  know  ourselves. 

"  Thou  searchest  out  my  path  and  my  lying  down, 
And  art  acquainted  with  all  my  ways. 
For  there  is  not  a  word  in  my  tongue, 
But,  lo,  O  Lord,  Thou  knowest  it  altogether." 

God  does  not  have  to  wait,  as  our  neighbours  do, 
until  we  speak  to  know  what  is  in  our  mind.  The 
silent  man  may  conceal  his  thoughts  from  his  fel- 
lows, but  he  cannot  conceal  them  from  God.  Un- 
spoken thoughts  are  open  to  Him.  Words  may  hide 
the  truth,  disguise  it  or  colour  it,  but  God  knows 
the  real  thought  that  is  in  the  word.  Neither  in 
the  depths  of  the  blue  heavens  nor  in  the  dark 
abyss  of  the  grave  can  one  hide  away  from  God. 
If  we  could  take  the  morning  sunbeams  for  wings 
and  fly  away  on  them  with  all  the  swiftness  of 
light  to  the  remotest  bounds  of  space,  we  could  not 
get  beyond  the  reach  of  the  divine  eye.  If  we 
creep  into  darkness  so  deep  and  dense  that  no 
human  eye  can  see  us,  still  God  sees  us  as  clearly 
as  if  we  stood  in  the  bright  noonday  sunshine. 
Darkness  hides  not  from  Him.  Night  shines  to  His 
eye  as  brightly  as  day. 

(538)  14 


210  PRAYER  FOR  DIVINE  SEARCHING. 

To  many  people  this  thought  of  God's  omniscience 
is  one  to  produce  only  fear  and  terror.  They  wish 
they  could  hide  from  Him,  or  veil  their  life  from 
Him,  and  flee  to  some  place  where  He  could  not 
find  them.  They  do  not  think  of  this  truth  as  a 
comforting  one,  but  as  one  to  alarm  them.  To  those 
who  are  living  in  sin,  unreconciled  to  God,  it  surely 
is  full  of  startling  terror.  Sin  always  wants  to  hide 
from  God.  But  to  believers  in  Christ  this  truth  of 
the  omniscience  of  God  is  one  of  great  comfort.  It 
is  divine  love  that  knows  all  our  thoughts  afar  off 
and  our  words  before  they  are  spoken,  and  that 
besets  us  behind  and  before.  When  we  are  told 
that  we  cannot  flee  from  God's  presence  nor  be  in 
any  place  where  He  is  not,  it  is  meant  to  be  a  com- 
fort. No  greater  blessing  could  be  imagined  than 
this.  We  can  never  be  cast  beyond  the  reach  of  His 
eye,  nor  out  of  His  presence,  nor  beyond  the  clasp 
of  His  love.  If  by  some  sudden  calamity  we  should 
be  swept  away  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth, 
where  no  human  friend  can  see  us,  we  would  still 
find  God  there,  and  His  hand*  would  lead  us,  and 
His  right  hand  would  hold  us.  Thus  the  truth  is 
one  of  immeasurable  comfort  and  blessing  to  us. 

The  psalm  speaks  also  of  the  preciousness  of  God's 
thoughts  toward  His  people.  It  is  wonderful  that  the 
great  God  should  think  about  us  at  all.  It  seems 
impossible,  when  we  remember  His  holiness  and  our 
sinfulness,  His  glory  and  our  littleness,  that  He  should 


PRAYER  FOR  DIVINE  SEARCHING.  211 

ever  think  of  us.  It  is  pleasant  for  us  to  learn  that 
some  one  on  earth  whom  we  esteem  highly  has  been 
thinking  about  us.  The  greater  the  person  is,  the 
more  honoured  and  distinguished  among  men,  the 
more  does  it  mean  to  us  to  discover  that  he  has  been 
thinking  about  us,  that  he  is  interested  in  us,  that 
he  cares  for  us  in  our  need  and  trouble,  and  that  he 
has  been  planning  ancl  thinking  for  our  good. 

The  most  shining  hour  in  any  life  is  the  one  in 

which  the  truth  breaks  upon  the  consciousness  that 

r  n       n 

God  loves,  when  one  can  say,  "  God  loves  me." 
One  of  the  sweetest  comforts  that  ever  come  to 
any  one  on  earth  is  the  revelation,  "  God  is  thinking  // 
//  about  me  as  really  as  ever  my  mother  did."  It  is 
true,  too.  God  thinks  about  us.  He  is  our  Father, 
and  cannot  but  think  of  His  children.  Nor  is  it  a 
mere  occasional  thought  that  He  gives  to  us ;  more 
in  number  than  are  the  sands  are  His  thoughts 
toward  us.  No  earthly  father  thinks  about  his 
best  beloved  child  so  often  as  he  goes  about,  busy 
in  the  affairs  of  his  life,  as  God  thinks  of  each  one 
of  us,  even  when  caring  for  all  the  worlds.  When 
we  are  in  joy  He  thinks  of  us,  watches  us,  and 
breathes  His  benedictions  into  our  gladness.  When 
we  are  in  danger,  He  thinks  about  us,  and  reaches  out 
His  hand  to  deliver  us.  When  we  are  in  sorrow,  He 
thinks  of  us,  pitying  us  as  a  father  pities  his  child, 
comforting  like  a  mother,  with  compassionate  love. 
One  who  was  wrecked  tells  how  he  clung  in  the 


212  PRAYER  FOR  DIVINE  SEARCHING. 

water  to  a  piece  of  a  mast,  but  floating  off  in  the 
waves  was  soon  utterly  alone  in  the  midst  of  the 
sea.  He  says  the  sense  of  his  utter  loneliness  was 
the  most  awful  element  in  his  experience  in  those 
dreadful  hours.  In  all  the  wide  expanse  there  was 
no  eye  to  see  him,  no  heart  to  give  him  a  thought 
of  care  or  pity.  But  God's  eye  saw  him  even  there ; 
God  thought  about  him.  Wherever  we  are,  in 
whatever  loneliness,  in  whatever  distress  or  danger, 
we  may  say,  "  I  am  poor  and  needy ;  yet  the  Lord 
thinketh  upon  me." 

No  doubt  there  are  things  in  us  of  which  God 
does  not  approve.  His  eyes  see  blots  in  our  fairest 
deeds.  It  is  said  that  the  finest  polishing  men  can 
give  to  steel — to  a  needle,  for  example — reveals,  under 
a  microscope,  roughnesses  and  irregularities  which 
greatly  mar  its  perfectness.  So,  to  God's  eye,  the 
most  lovely  human  life  reveals  many  flaws  and 
blemishes.  No  doubt  our  most  devout  worship  has 
in  it  much  sin.  Our  most  unselfish  love  is  stained 
by  selfishness.  Our  best  work  is  blotched  by  evil. 
A  painter  saw  an  ugly  stain  on  the  wall  he  had 
been  frescoing.  He  took  a  wet  cloth  to  remove  it ; 
but  the  cloth  was  itself  soiled,  and  left  a  blotch 
worse  than  that  the  painter  had  sought  to  remove. 
May  it  not  be  so  with  much  of  our  work  on  other 
lives  ?  Our  own  hands  are  unclean,  and  they  stain 
where  we  thought  to  cleanse  and  leave  touches  of 
beauty.  We  know  enough  of  our  own  heart  to  be 


PRAYER  FOR  DIVINE  SEARCHING.  213 

sure  that  all  is  not  with  us  as  it  ought  to  be.  Are 
we  willing  to  have  God  search  us  and  try  our 
thoughts?  Then  are  we  willing  to  put  away  all 
the  evil  that  God,  by  His  Word  and  Spirit,  may  dis- 
close to  us  in  ourselves  ? 

It  is  one  of  the  infinite  blessings  of  our  life  that 
God  does  search  us  and  try  our  ways.  If  He  did 
not  we  should  never  get  home.  In  our  lives,  at  the 
best,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  chaff  to  a  very  little 
wheat ;  if  the  chaff  is  not  gotten  out  in  some  way, 
we  shall  never  be  fit  for  God's  garner.  Winnowing 
may  be  a  painful  process,  but  it  is  a  blessed  one,  for 
in  the  end  it  leaves  us  cleansed  and  prepared  for  the 
holy  life  of  heaven.  So  when  God  searches  us  and 
winnows  us,  we  should  be  humble  and  quiet  before 
Him,  submitting  to  Him.  We  should  continually 
make  our  prayer  to  Him  that  He  would  search  us 
and  try  us,  and  see  if  there  be  any  wicked  way  in 
us,  and  then  lead  us  in  the  way  everlasting. 

"  Thou  Searcher  of  all  hearts,  look  down  and  see, 
Not  if  the  chaff  doth  most  abound  in  me, 
But  if  there  be  a  tithe  of  grain  for  Thee — 
A  tithe  for  Thee,  in  all  the  unfruitful  place ! 
All  the  day  long  before  the  winds  of  grace 
My  chaff  upriseth  in  Thy  patient  face. 
My  lying  down,  my  path,  my  ways  how  poor, 
My  wasted  moments  husks  bestrew  my  floor ; 
And  still  Thou  searchest  by  the  garner  door. 
Content  to  stoop,  if  so  upon  the  ground 
One  grain  of  truth,  one  ear  of  love  be  found, 
Bo  doth  Thy  patience,  dearest  Lord,  abound  1" 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

REMEMBERING  CHRIST'S  WORDS. 

"They  fear  not  life's  rough  storms  to  brave, 
Since  Thou  art  near  and  strong  to  save ; 
Nor  shudder  e'en  at  death's  dark  wave, 

Because  they  cling  to  Thee. 
Blest  is  my  lot  whate'er  befall ; 
What  can  disturb  me,  who  appall, 
While,  as  my  strength,  my  rock,  my  all, 
Saviour,  I  cling  to  Thee  ? " 

CHARLOTTE  ELLIOTT. 

MEMORY  is  a  wonderful  faculty.  It  is  a  hand 
that  writes  down  on  an  invisible  scroll  u 
record  of  all  the  things  we  do,  all  the  thoughts  that 
pass  through  our  mind,  all  the  impressions  that  are 
made  upon  us.  Memory  is  meant  to  give  us  great 
pleasure.  It  would  gather  into  the  storehouses  of  the 
soul  all  the  precious  things  of  the  passing  years  and 
keep  them  there  for  ever.  The  joys  of  childhood  are 
thus  treasured,  to  shed  their  sweetness  on  the  life  in 
the  times  of  toil,  care,  and  sorrow  which  come  in  the 
later  years.  The  glad  things  in  the  days  of  youth 
and  sunshine  are  stored  away  to  become  lamps  to 
shine  when  it  grows  dark  outside,  or  to  be  like 


REMEMBERING  CHRIST'S  WORDS.  215 

singing-birds  in  the  bosom  when  earth's  music  is 
hushed. 

It  is  wonderful  how  sweet  memories  of  better  days 
mitigate  the  sorrows  and  pains  of  life  when  mis- 
fortune or  trial  has  stripped  off  the  things  that  gave 
joy.  There  is  a  story  of  a  young  man  who  was 
informed  that  in  a  few  months  he  must  become  blind, 
and  who  instantly  set  out  to  find  and  look  upon  the 
loveliest  things  in  the  world,  that  in  his  days  of 
darkness  he  might  have  the  memories  of  the  beauti- 
ful scenes  to  cheer  him. 

Thus  memory  may  help  us  to  prepare  for  times  of 
sorrow  by  gathering  up  the  sunshine  and  storing  it 
away  in  our  heart.  The  great  coal-fields  in  the  earth 
are  only  memories  of  wonderful  ages  in  the  past, 
when  vast  forests  and  dense  masses  of  vegetation 
grew  and  fell  into  the  ground,  and  were  covered  up 
and  there  held  in  store  for  service  in  these  later  ages. 
Now  the  treasured  sunshine  lights  and  warms  our 
homes.  Like  service  does  memory  perform  when  it 
holds  in  its  storehouses  the  beautiful  things  of  life's 
bright  summer  days,  to  give  light  and  warmth  when 
winter  comes  with  its  long  nights  and  its  cold  and 
storm. 

But  memory  stores  up  the  bitter  with  the  sweet. 
If  we  live  negligently,  carelessly,  sinfully,  we  lay  up 
recollections  which  can  cause  only  sorrow,  pain,  and 
shame.  The  secret  of  a  happy  life  is  a  well-watched 
past.  Every  to-day  is  the  harvest  of  yesterday. 


216  REMEMBERING  CHRIST'S  WORDS. 

The  only  way  to  make  to-morrow's  memories  rich 
and  sweet  is  to  live  to-day  a  pure,  obedient,  gentle, 
unselfish,  helpful  life. 

There  is  an  exhortation  which  says,  "Remember 
the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus."  To  remember,  in  this 
sense,  is  also  to  keep,  to  do,  to  obey.  It  does  one 
little  good  merely  to  remember  the  words  which 
Christ  speaks,  and  not  to  take  them  into  the  heart 
and  life.  There  is  not  a  line  of  truth  in  the  Bible 
which  is  not  meant  in  some  way  to  affect  the  life 
and  character.  Bible  teachings  are  the  gleams  of 
heaven's  light  touching  the  earth.  There  is  not  a 
truth  in  the  Bible  which,  if  received  into  the  heart, 
will  not  leave  its  impress  in  some  way  upon  the 
spirit,  the  life,  the  disposition,  the  conduct,  the  char- 
acter. 

What  becomes  of  all  the  sermons?  Many  of  us 
hear  at  least  two  every  Sabbath.  Every  sermon 
ought  to  be  a  message  from  God.  The  preacher  is 
God's  messenger,  or  he  is  nothing.  If  he  speaks  only 
his  own  words  and  does  not  speak  for  God,  he  is  not 
a  preacher.  They  must  be  words  of  life,  too,  which 
he  speaks.  "  The  words  that  I  speak  unto  you,"  said 
Jesus,  "  they  are  spirit,  and  they  are  life." 

God's  word  is  compared  by  the  great  Teacher  to 
seed.  What  follows  when  the  sower  goes  over  his 
field  and  scatters  his  good  seed  upon  the  ground  ? 
He  seems  to  be  only  throwing  it  away.  But  in  each 
of  the  little  golden  grains  is  a  secret  of  life  that,  when 


REMEMBERING  CHRIST'S  WORDS.  217 

the  seed  becomes  soft  in  the  earth,  puts  out  a  little 
point,  a  tiny  sprig,  which  becomes  by-and-by  a  stem 
that  shoots  up  into  a  stalk  of  wheat.  In  the  season 
of  harvest  the  field  bears  its  burden  of  golden  grain. 
Jesus  tells  us  what  becomes  of  the  sermons.  Not 
all  the  good  seed  grows  into  its  appropriate  harvest. 
There  are  four  different  ways  of  receiving  the  good 
seed.  There  are  wayside  hearers.  The  ground  is 
trodden  down  into  hardness  by  many  passing  feet, 
until  it  cannot  receive  the  seed.  The  golden  grains 
fall  upon  it,  but  lie  there  uncovered,  and  the  birds 
come  and  take  them  away.  There  are  stony-ground 
hearers.  A  thin  layer  of  surface  soil  receives  the 
seed,  and  at  once  it  springs  up.  But  the  hot  sun 
blazes  down  on  the  place,  the  thin  soil  is  soon  dried, 
and  the  green  shoots  are  soon  withered  and  dead. 
There  are  the  thorny-ground  hearers.  The  soil  is 
good,  rich,  and  deep,  and  the  seed  grows  luxuriantly. 
But  the  ground  contains  also  roots  of  briers  and 
thorns,  and  the  same  rich  soil  which  produces  rapid 
growth  in  the  wheat  fosters  also  the  quicker  grow- 
ing of  these  briers  and  thorns,  and  the  wheat  is  soon 
so  choked  that  only  poor,  starved,  shrivelled  grains 
form  on  the  stalk,  none  of  them  growing  to  perfec- 
tion. There  is  also  good  ground — untrodden,  deep- 
ploughed,  clean  of  the  roots  of  other  things.  On  this 
soil  the  seed  grows  into  luxuriance,  and  the  harvest 
waves  at  length — many  times  the  sowing  being 
reaped  from  the  field. 


218  REMEMBERING  CHRIST'S  WORDS. 

What  becomes  of  the  seed  depends  on  the  soil 
What  becomes  of  the  sermons  depends  on  the  hearers. 
There  are  hearts  like  the  wayside,  trodden  down  by 
passing  feet,  so  that  no  holy  word  or  thought  of  God 
finds  entrance  into  them.  There  are  rocky  hearts — 
emotional,  promising  well  for  a  little  while,  but  not 
enduring  temptation  and  trial.  There  are  thorny 
hearts,  in  which  grow  the  roots  of  other  things  that 
choke  out  the  divine  seeds.  No  fruit  of  the  Spirit 
ripens  to  anything  beautiful  in  them. 

This  parable  tells  what  comes  of  a  great  deal  of 
the  holy  seed  that  is  scattered  on  the  earth.  Nothing 
comes  of  it.  The  birds  get  it ;  the  heat  withers  it ; 
briers  and  thorns  choke  it.  But  there  are  also  hearts 
that  receive  the  words  of  truth,  keep  them,  nourish- 
ing them  into  growths  which  yield  a  rich  harvest. 

We  must  not  forget  that  all  this  hearing  of  the 
truth  leaves  a  record.  There  has  been  invented  a 
curious  little  machine  which,  when  placed  in  the 
rear  of  a  railway-car,  registers  on  a  strip  of  paper 
every  motion  of  the  car,  every  curve  of  the  track, 
every  unevenness,  every  decayed  or  sunken  sleeper, 
every  fragment  of  the  history  of  the  train's  move- 
ment from  the  moment  it  starts  till  it  stops.  There 
is  something  in  each  human  life  that,  in  like  manner, 
registers  all  that  goes  on  in  the  life,  every  day,  every 
year.  It  marks  all  our  privileges  and  opportunities. 
It  tells  of  every  sermon  we  hear,  every  good  word 
that  falls  upon  our  ear,  every  shining  upon  us  of  the 


REMEMBERING  CHRIST'S  WORDS.  219 

face  of  Christ,  every  call  to  duty,  every  warning  and 
exhortation,  every  touch  upon  our  life  by  the  hand 
of  Christ,  every  influence  of  friendship ;  and  it  also 
shows  our  response  to  all  these  influences.  It  is 
well  that  we  consider  what  kind  of  autobiography 
we  are  writing  these  passing  days.  What  does 
memory  enshrine  of  the  words  of  Christ  which  we 
have  heard  ?  None  of  us  know  how  these  living 
words  have  wrought  in  our  lives.  If  it  were  possible 
to  obliterate  from  our  character  all  that  they  have 
done  in  us,  we  should  then  see  what  we  owe  to  them. 
The  sun  is  not  so  much  to  the  planets  as  these  words 
of  Christ  are  to  our  lives. 

Think  of  the  comfort  we  have  gotten  in  sorrow, 
the  light  that  has  made  our  darkness  bright  with 
hopes  and  has  filled  our  night  with  stars.  Think  of 
the  lines  of  beauty  which  the  words  of  Christ,  like 
the  pencils  of  a  great  artist,  have  left  in  our  lives. 
We  never  shall  know  in  this  world  all  that  the 
words  of  Christ  have  done  in  us  and  for  us.  Thus 
we  cannot  know  what  shall  be  the  influence  of  these 
words,  repeated  by  us,  on  others  who  may  hear  them. 

"  Never  a  word  is  said 

But  it  trembles  in  the  air, 
And  the  truant  voice  has  sped 

To  vibrate  everywhere ; 
And  perhaps  far  off  in  eternal  years 
The  echo  may  ring  upon  our  ears." 

Perhaps  we  have  resisted  the  influence  of  Christ's 


220  REMEMBERING  CHRIST'S  WORDS. 

words  in  our  lives.  Some  of  us  grieve  over  the 
stained  pages,  the  blotted  lines,  the  failures  to  be 
sweet  in  the  time  of  provocation,  to  be  patient  in 
trial.  Christ  understands  it  all.  He  knows  how 
the  lesson  has  been  missed.  But  He  is  also  our 

teacher.     He  says,  "Come  unto  me learn  of  me," 

and  He  never  grows  impatient  of  our  slow  learning, 
even  of  our  failures.  Here  is  a  little  story  with  a 
lesson.  A  teacher  says : — 

"  He  came  to  my  desk  with  a  quivering  lip — 

The  lesson  was  done. 
'  Dear  teacher,  I  want  a  new  leaf,'  he  said  ; 

'  I  have  spoiled  this  one.' 
In  place  of  the  leaf  so  stained  and  blotted, 
I  gave  him  a  new  one  all  unspotted, 
And  into  his  sad  eyes  smiled — 
'  Do  better  now,  my  child.' 

"  I  went  to  the  Throne  with  a  quivering  soul — 

The  old  year  was  done. 
'  Dear  Father,  hast  Thou  a  new  leaf  for  me  ? 

I  have  spoiled  this  one.' 
He  took  the  old  leaf  stained  and  blotted, 
And  gave  me  a  new  one  all  unspotted, 
And  into  my  sad  heart  smiled — 
'Do  better  now,  my  child.'" 

Remembering  Christ's  words  sweetens  the  life.  It 
keeps  the  thoughts  always  fragrant.  A  drawer  was 
opened,  and  a  delicious  perfume  stole  out  and  filled 
the  room.  A  grain  of  musk  in  the  drawer  was  the 
secret  of  it  all.  So  the  words  of  Christ  hidden  in  a 
human  heart  sweeten  all  the  life.  A  writer  tells  the 


REMEMBERING  CHRIST'S  WORDS.  221 

story  of  a  young  girl  whose  spirit  grew  so  won- 
drously  beautiful  and  gentle,  the  secret  being  that 
one  little  verse  of  Scripture  was  lying  like  a  rich 
odour  in  her  heart :  "  Whom  not  having  seen,  ye 
love."  If  we  let  the  word  of  Christ  dwell  in  us 
richly,  it  will  pour  sweetness  through  all  our  life, 
into  our  thoughts,  feelings,  affections,  and  emotions, 
until  our  whole  being  is  saturated  with  the  rich 
fragrance.  There  is  no  other  secret  of  true,  noble, 
Christ-like  character. 

There  is  another  Bible  "  Remember."  This  time  it 
is  a  prayer  to  God,  asking  Him  to  remember  the 
word  on  which  He  had  caused  His  servant  to  hope. 
Of  course  God  could  never  fail  to  remember  any  word 
He  has  spoken  on  which  any  of  His  children  have 
trusted.  We  forget  too  easily  the  words  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  ;  but  He  never  forgets  a  promise  He  makes. 

Men  often  make  promises  on  which  others  depend, 
perhaps  staking  all  their  interests  and  their  happi- 
ness upon  the  assurance  given  to  them,  only  to  find 
at  last  that  the  promise  has  been  forgotten.  We 
have  all  known  instances  in  which  one  person  took 
another's  word,  believed  what  he  said,  accepted  his 
assurance,  giving  it  implicit  confidence  —  only  to 
learn  at  length  that  there  was  nothing  substantial 
in  the  promise.  But  God's  least  word  is  true  and 
eternal.  "  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away,  but 
my  words  shall  not  pass  away,"  said  Christ.  When 
a  soul  takes  any  word  of  Christ  and  builds  a  fabric 


222  REMEMBERING  CHRIST'S  WORDS. 

of  hope  upon  it,  resting  on  it,  believing  that  it  will 
be  fulfilled,  sooner  might  the  stars  fall  from  heaven 
than  that  God  should  forget  or  fail  to  fulfil  His 
promise. 

In  days  of  war,  while  the  army  rested,  a  bird  came 
and  built  her  nest  on  the  pole  of  the  emperor's  tent. 
When  it  was  time  for  the  army  to  move,  the  mother 
bird  was  sitting  on  her  eggs.  The  emperor  gave 
command  that  the  royal  tent  should  be  left  standing, 
that  the  bird  might  not  be  disturbed  till  her  young 
were  hatched  and  were  old  enough  to  fly.  The  bird 
had  trusted  him,  building  her  nest  in  his  tent,  and 
he  would  not  disappoint  her  trust.  If  we  put  our 
confidence  in  any  word  of  God,  building  our  hope 
upon  it,  He  will  honour  our  trust,  and  His  word 
shall  be  as  an  eternal  rock. 

"  He  was  better  to  me  than  all  my  hopes, 

He  was  better  than  all  my  fears  ; 
He  made  a  bridge  of  my  broken  works, 

And  a  rainbow  of  my  tears. 
The  billows  that  guarded  my  sea-girt  path 

But  carried  my  Lord  on  their  crest ; 
When  I  dwell  on  the  days  of  my  wilderness  march, 

I  can  lean  on  His  love  for  the  rest. 

"  There  is  light  for  me  on  the  trackless  wild, 

As  the  wonders  of  old  I  trace, 
When  the  God  of  the  whole  earth  went  before 

To  search  me  a  resting-place. 
\     Never  a  watch  on  the  dreariest  halt 

!But  some  promise  of  love  endears ; 
I  read  from  the  past  that  my  future  shall  b«  . 
Far  better  than  all  my  fears." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS. 

"One 

Of  a  commanding  stature — beautiful — 
Bearing  such  countenance  as  whoso  gazed 

Must  love  or  fear In  admonition  calm  ; 

In  tender  hours  each  word  like  music's  soul 
Heard  past  the  sound  !    Not  ofttimes  seen  to  smile. 
More  oft  to  weep  ;  yet  of  a  lofty  cheer 
Commonly — nay,  of  playful  raillery, 
And  swift  wit,  softened  with  sweet  gravity. 
Straight-standing  like  a  palm-tree ;  hands  and  limbs 
So  moulded  that  the  noblest  copy  of  them : 
Among  the  sons  of  men  fairest  and  first." 

SIB  EDWIN  ARNOLD. 

THE  question  has  been  raised  whether  Chris- 
tianity is  not  a  religion  for  women  rather 
than  for  men.  It  has  been  claimed  by  some  that 
the  virtues  it  inculcates  are  feminine  rather  than 
masculine ;  that  it  does  not  appeal  to  the  manly 
instincts  and  sentiments  as  it  does  to  the  womanly ; 
that  its  principles  and  qualities  are  not  those  recog- 
nized among  men  as  belonging  to  the  truest  and 
sturdiest  manhood.  There  is  at  least  a  widespread 
impression  that  in  actual  experience  Christianity  is 


224  THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS. 

not  making  the  best  possible  men.  That  is  what  the 
world  charges.  It  says  Christianity's  men  are  want- 
ing in  the  stalwart  qualities,  that  they  are  senti- 
mental, weak,  and  not  always  unalterably  true,  not 
always  upright,  lacking  in  virile  force. 

No  doubt  there  are  in  Jesus  all  the  gentler  qualities 
which  we  think  of  as  belonging  to  woman.  But 
are  not  these  very  graces  adornments  also  of  manly 
character  ?  Is  it  a  shame  for  a  man  to  be  kindly, 
tender-hearted,  patient,  sympathetic?  Yet  while 
these  gentler  qualities  undoubtedly  appear  in  the 
character  of  Jesus,  no  less  are  there  in  Him  the  ele- 
ments of  strength,  courage,  heroism,  justice,  un- 
flinching integrity.  It  takes  both  to  make  complete 
manliness. 

F.  W.  Robertson  says  that  Christ's  heart  had  in  it 
the  blended  qualities  of  both  sexes.  "  There  is  in 
Him,"  he  says,  "  the  woman  heart  as  well  as  the 
manly  brain."  There  is  something  very  beautiful  in 
this  thought,  that  in  Jesus  whatever  is  best  and 
truest  in  both  man  and  woman  is  found.  A  woman 
who  is  seeking  for  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  what- 
soever things  are  lovely  in  womanhood,  the  graces  of 
refined  character — gentleness,  sweetness,  lovingness 
— finds  all  these  qualities  in  Jesus  Christ.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  man  who  is  looking  for  whatsoever 
things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are  honourable — 
the  elements  of  noble  manhood — will  also  find  these 
qualities  in  Christ.  He  was  the  Son  of  man ;  not  the 


THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS.  225 

son  of  a  man,  but  the  Son  of  man — of  humanity.  In 
Him  all  the  excellences  of  manhood,  as  planned  by 
God,  found  their  perfection. 

He  was  born  of  the  seed  of  David,  but  He  was  not 
a  Jew.  He  had  no  national  peculiarity.  As  Robert- 
son says,  further :  "  Once  in  this  world's  history  was 
born  a  Man.  Once  in  the  roll  of  ages,  out  of  in- 
numerable failures,  from  the  stock  of  human  nature 
one  bud  developed  itself  into  a  faultless  flower.  One 
perfect  specimen  of  humanity  has  God  exhibited  on 
earth."  Other  men,  the  best,  the  truest,  the  worthiest, 
have  in  them  only  a  little  fragment  of  a  complete 
life ;  but  in  Christ  is  the  perfect  humanity,  as  if  the 
life-blood  of  every  nation  were  in  His  veins,  and  that 
which  is  best  and  truest  in  every  man,  and  that 
which  is  tenderest,  gentlest,  and  purest  in  every 
woman,  were  in  His  character. 

What  are  the  manly  qualities  ?  Thomas  Hughes 
says  courage  is  the  foundation  of  all  true  manliness. 
He  means  not  mere  physical  courage,  which  one  may 
have  and  yet  be  a  moral  coward,  but  that  courage 
which  adheres  to  the  right,  quietly,  firmly,  in  the 
face  of  all  danger  and  all  antagonism,  and  goes  straight 
on,  with  unwavering  persistence,  to  its  goal.  Do  we 
find  courage  in  Jesus  ?  Recall  the  meaning  of  His 
mission.  He  came  into  the  world  to  destroy  the 
works  of  the  devil.  He  was  the  second  Adam,  stand- 
ing for  the  race.  The  first  Adam  had  failed  and 
fallen.  What  the  consequences  of  ruin  and  sorrow 

(538)  15 


226  THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS. 

were,  we  know  in  a  little  measure.  Now  Jesus  came 
to  fight  the  battle  over,  to  reclaim  what  had  been 
lost.  The  interests  of  the  whole  human  race  were  in 
His  hands  that  day  as  the  heavens  opened  and  the 
Spirit  came  down  upon  Him. 

Suppose  He  had  failed.  But  He  did  not  fail.  He 
met  terrible  antagonism.  He  went  from  His  baptism 
into  the  wilderness,  where  He  endured  terrific  assaults 
from  Satan.  Suppose  He  had  failed  then,  what 
would  have  been  the  consequence  ?  But  He  met  the 
tempter  in  fierce  battle,  and  stood  like  a  rock.  So  it 
was  through  all  His  life.  He  never  wavered  in  His 
purpose  to  be  true.  He  had  His  year  of  popularity 
— a  sorer  test  of  moral  courage,  ofttimes,  than  oppo- 
sition. Many  men  yield  to  the  seductions  of  flattery 
and  favour,  and  fail  to  be  true,  who  in  the  storm  of 
enmity  are  faithful  as  the  compass.  But  Jesus  was 
not  swayed  by  popularity,  was  never  tempted  aside 
from  the  straight  path. 

Then  opposition  came.  The  crowds  began  to  for- 
sake Him.  The  rulers  were  against  Him.  Enemies 
gathered  in  increasing  number.  The  end  was  draw- 
ing nigh,  and  He  knew  what  the  end  would  be.  The 
shadow  of  the  cross  fell  upon  His  soul  that  day  when 
He  was  being  baptized.  Every  step  of  His  life  was 
toward  Calvary.  Yet  as  the  plots  thickened,  as  the 
shadows  deepened,  He  wavered  not.  He  set  His  face 
steadfastly  to  go  to  Jerusalem  though  He  knew  what 
waited  there  for  Him.  Never  before  nor  since  has 


THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS.  227 

the  world  seen  any  other  such  trial  of  courage  as  was 
Christ's.  He  was  standing  for  us  men  and  our  salva- 
tion, and  He  faltered  not  in  the  testing. 

We  praise  the  heroism  of  the  soldier  who  stands 
unflinching,  at  the  risk  of  death,  in  defence  of  his 
country.  We  praise  the  heroes  at  all  life's  posts  of 
danger  who  are  faithful  to  their  trust.  That  is  well. 
But  the  loftiest  heroism  of  the  ages  was  that  of  Jesus. 

Strength  is  another  quality  of  manliness.  It  is 
good  to  be  physically  strong.  But  one  may  be  a 
Hercules  in  body  and  a  pigmy  in  moral  strength. 
Samson  could  carry  off  city  gates,  but  could  not  with- 
stand the  temptations  of  idleness  and  ease.  The 
strength  of  many  men  is  marred  by  weakness  of 
some  sort.  We  say,  "  Every  man  has  his  weak  point." 
But  you  will  search  in  vain  in  the  story  of  Jesus  for 
any  betrayal  of  weakness  in  Him.  We  see  His  ma- 
jestic strength,  side  by  side  with  His  courage,  in  His 
conflicts  with  the  tempter,  in  His  persistent  devotion 
to  the  divine  will,  in  His  blamelessness  and  sinless- 
ness  amid  all  the  seductions  of  life.  Everywhere  we 
see  Him  He  is  kingly. 

Take  His  self-control  as  a  token  of  His  strength. 
The  truly  strong  man  is  he  who  has  strong  capacities 
— feelings,  passions,  powers — and  has  perfect  mastery 
over  them.  No  matter  how  great  a  man  may  be  in 
abilities,  what  tremendous  energies  he  may  carry  in 
his  life,  if  he  is  not  able  to  control  them,  he  is  pitiably 
weak.  The  strong  man  has  mighty  internal  forces, 


228  THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS. 

a  soul  of  strength,  intense  passions,  feelings,  tempers, 
all  under  perfect  control.  Jesus  stood  this  test.  In 
Him  all  human  powers  reached  their  highest  develop- 
ment, and  then  He  was  perfect  master  of  Himself. 
He  was  never  betrayed  by  excitement,  by  injustice, 
by  torture,  to  speak  a  word  unadvisedly.  He  never 
lost  His  temper.  He  never  grew  impatient.  He 
never  spoke  rashly.  He  never  showed  envy  or  re- 
sentment. He  never  fretted,  never  complained,  never 
was  disturbed  in  the  calm  of  His  soul  by  outward 
circumstances.  He  stood  quietly  on  the  boat  in  the 
midnight  storm.  He  faced  the  gibbering  maniac 
among  the  tombs  as  if  he  had  been  an  innocent  child. 
He  went  in  and  out  among  the  hostile  Jews  as  quietly 
as  if  they  had  been  His  friends. 

Think  of  His  self-control  in  suffering.  Never 
have  the  heavens  bent  over  any  other  pain  so  deep 
and  terrible  as  was  the  pain  of  Christ  in  the  garden 
and  on  the  cross.  We  sometimes  think  our  sorrows 
are  bitter,  but  they  are  nothing  to  those  which  Jesus 
endured.  We  have  hints  of  the  almost  unbearable 
burden  of  His  heart  in  the  strong  cryings  which  came 
from  Gethsemane,  and  in  the  word  of  forsakenness 
which  breaks  from  His  lips  on  the  cross.  But  through 
all  His  ineffable  sufferings  He  maintained  the  most 
perfect  calm.  He  never  murmured.  His  peace  was 
never  once  broken.  Call  you  it  not  manly  strength 
which  endured  so  quietly  such  incomprehensible 
suffering  ? 


THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS.  229 

Or  think  of  His  bearing  under  wrong  and  enmity. 
From  the  beginning  of  His  public  ministry  He  met 
injustice.  He  was  rejected  by  those  He  sought  to 
help.  Toward  the  close  these  antagonisms  became 
more  bitter.  But  He  endured  them  all  with  heroic 
patience.  He  never  showed  the  slightest  fear.  He 
never  grew  angry.  Recall  His  bearing  on  His  trial, 
His  silence  before  the  council,  before  Pilate,  before 
Herod.  Think  of  His  silence  and  patient  submission 
when  crowned  with  thorns,  mocked,  scourged,  spit 
upon.  It  takes  a  great  deal  more  strength  to  bear 
indignities  and  reproaches  quietly  and  sweetly  than 
it  does  to  resent  them,  to  resist  them,  to  lift  up  voice 
and  hand  against  them,  especially  if  one  has  power 
to  resist.  Yet  that  was  the  strength  Jesus  had. 

When  about  to  be  crucified,  they  offered  Him  a 
stupefying  potion,  to  deaden  His  consciousness  of 
pain.  It  was  a  kindness  offered  by  Jewish  women. 
But  He  quietly  refused  it,  and  accepted  the  full 
measure  of  pain  which  crucifixion  involved,  with 
every  sense  at  its  keenest.  When  the  nails  were 
driven  through  His  flesh,  the  only  cry  wrung  from 
Him  was  a  prayer  for  the  men  who  were  crucifying 
Him.  Can  any  one  read  the  story  of  Jesus  and  note 
the  strength  which  marks  it  all,  and  then  say  that 
He  was  not  a  manly  man  ? 

Another  element  of  ideal  manliness  is  true  love,  or 
generosity.  We  may  call  it  by  different  names.  It 
is  large-heartedness.  One  writer  puts  it  thus :  "  An 


230  THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS. 

open,  tolerant,  and  kindly  temper,  that  welcomes 
confidence,  that  overlooks  faults,  that  makes  much 
of  any  good  in  other  men,  that  easily  forgives  wrong, 
— that  is  a  part  of  any  ordinary  notion  of  manliness." 
There  are  men  with  many  strong  points  who  are 
lacking  in  this  quality.  They  are  suspicious,  jeal- 
ous, envious,  secretive,  narrow,  intolerant.  They  are 
impatient  of  other  men's  prosperity.  They  are  un- 
generous toward  other  men's  faults.  They  are  selfish, 
exacting,  thoughtless,  resentful.  They  are  brusque, 
stern,  rasping  in  their  talk.  These  are  blemishes  on 
their  manliness.  But  those  who  read  the  story  of  the 
life  of  Jesus  find  in  Him  at  every  point  the  finest 
spirit  of  generosity.  He  was  the  truest  gentleman 
that  ever  lived.  We  have  seen  His  courage  and  His 
strength ;  no  less  wonderful  was  the  gentle  side  of  His 
character.  He  was  large-hearted,  tolerant  of  other 
men,  patient  with  men's  weaknesses,  open  as  day  in 
all  His  acts,  gentle  and  kindly  in  all  His  converse. 

Those  nearest  to  Him  saw  the  most  in  Him  to  love. 
'This  is  not  always  true  of  men.  Close  association 
with  them  reveals  faults,  and  discloses  traits  which 
are  unlovely.  Too  close  intimacy  is  of ttimes  fatal  to 
admiration.  Many  people  appear  better  at  a  distance 
than  when  near.  But  the  life  of  Christ  stood  the 
test  of  close  familiarity.  He  was  gentle,  thoughtful, 
patient,  unselfish,  full  of  sympathy.  He  loved  men, 
not  because  He  saw  beauty  in  them,  but  because  He 
wished  to  do  them  good.  He  treated  men  always 


THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS.  231 

with  a  love  which  was  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice 
to  serve  them. 

The  world's  idea  of  what  makes  a  man  is  not 
always  infallibly  true.  Some  people  call  brutality 
manly.  In  some  countries  "  the  code  of  honour,"  as 
it  is  most  falsely  called,  prevails  as  a  canon  of  manly 
behaviour.  If  a  man  thinks  he  is  insulted,  he  must 
send  a  challenge  and  meet  his  alleged  insulter  in  a 
duel.  If  he  does  not,  they  call  him  a  cringing  coward, 
and  he  loses  social  caste.  In  some  places  virtue  in  a 
man  is  laughed  at.  They  call  purity  unmanly.  But 
these  are  low,  debased  standards.  No  man  who  looks 
God  in  the  face  and  desires  to  grow  into  divine  beauty 
will  call  brutality  manly,  or  duelling,  or  sensuality, 
or  dishonesty,  or  untruthf ulness.  The  only  standard 
of  manly  character  is  that  set  for  us  in  the  moral  law, 
a  transcript  of  the  character  of  God  Himself. 

Jesus  brought  into  the  world  a  new  standard  of 
manhood,  a  divine  standard.  Once  in  the  ages  a 
manhood  grew  up  which  combined  in  itself  all  the 
thought  of  God  for  man.  Jesus  showed  the  world 
what  it  is  to  be  truly  a  man.  He  showed  us  a  pat- 
tern on  which  we  should  all  seek  to  fashion  our  lives. 
He  was  a  true  man  from  the  crown  of  His  head  to 
the  soles  of  His  feet.  His  was  the  truest,  noblest, 
strongest,  bravest,  most  unselfish  life  that  ever  was 
lived  on  the  earth.  If  we  seek  to  grow  into  His 
likeness,  we  shall  climb  nearer  to  God  and  into  the 
noblest,  loftiest  reach  of  humanity. 


232  THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS. 

In  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  too,  we  find  the  precepts 
which  set  forth  the  qualities  of  true  manhood.  Any 
man  who  feels  that  the  gospel  of  Christ  is  not  fitted 
to  make  men  brave  men,  strong  men,  true  men,  should 
read  over  thoughtfully  the  sermon  on  the  mount. 
It  begins  with  the  beatitudes,  in  which  the  great 
Teacher  sketches  in  a  few  bold  strokes  ideal  manli- 
ness. "  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit."  The  world 
would  not  write  that  beatitude;  yet  who  will  say 
that  true,  unconscious  humility  is  not  a  shining 
quality  in  manly  character  ?  "  Blessed  are  the  meek." 
Again  the  world  would  sneer.  "  It  is  craven  and 
cowardly  to  bear  injuries  patiently,  to  forgive  wrongs, 
to  repay  hatred  with  love."  But  true  meekness  is 
really  manly.  It  is  easier  far  to  let  resentment  blaze 
out,  to  let  anger  burn,  to  strike  the  retaliatory  blow. 
But  if  strength  be  a  quality  of  manliness,  it  takes 
strength  to  be  meek.  If  generosity  be  a  manly 
quality,  then  meekness  is  manly.  "  Blessed  are  the 
pure  in  heart."  The  world  does  not  insist  on  purity 
as  a  cardinal  element  in  its  manliness.  But  the  more 
shame  for  the  world.  Who  will  stand  up  before  men, 
in  the  clear  light  of  day,  and  contend  that  uncleanness 
of  life  is  not  unmanly,  that  purity  of  heart  is  not  a 
radiant  quality  in  true  manliness  ? 

All  Christ's  teachings,  if  accepted  and  obeyed,  will 
help  toward  the  truest  manliness.  There  is  nothing 
weak  or  unmanly  in  any  quality  of  character  which 
He  commends.  There  is  no  easy-going  virtue  such 


THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS.  233 

as  the  world  likes.  There  are  no  elements  that  are 
not  pure,  true,  and  right.  A  false-hearted  man  will 
not  find  his  ideal  manliness  in  Christ.  The  gospel 
deals  mercilessly  with  all  shams,  all  unrealities,  all 
unworthy  things  in  life.  It  denounces  in  burning 
words  all  untruth.  Jesus  had  no  patience  with  any- 
thing that  was  not  right  and  beautiful. 

A  story  is  told  of  one  who,  reading  thoughtfully 
the  fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh  chapters  of  St.  Matthew's 
Gospel,  where  so  many  duties  that  are  strange  to 
flesh  and  blood  are  taught,  broke  out,  "  0  Jesus,  this 
is  not  Thy  gospel,  or  we  are  not  Christians."  The 
lives  of  professing  Christians  seemed  to  him  so  far 
below  the  standard  of  the  sermon  on  the  mount, 
that  he  felt  these  could  not  be  Christ's  followers. 

But  Christ  is  more  than  a  teacher.  A  teacher 
shows  us  lofty  qualities  and  attainments,  and  then 
leaves  us  in  hopeless  weakness  in  the  dust;  But 
Christ  is  Helper,  Friend,  Saviour,  as  well  as  Teacher. 
He  shows  us  what  true  manliness  is,  then  comes 
into  our  life  and  inspires  us  to  strive  after  the  things 
He  commends,  and  then  breathes  His  life  into  us  to 
help  us  to  be  what  He  teaches  us  to  be.  Wendell 
Phillips  once  wrote  in  an  album  these  words : — 

"  I  slept,  and  dreamed  that  life  was  beauty ; 
I  waked  to  find  that  life  was  duty. 
Was  then  thy  dream  a  shadowy  lie  T 
Toil  on,  sad  heart,  courageously, 
And  tliou  shall  find  thy  dream  to  be 
Noonday  and  light  and  life  to  thee." 


234  THE  MANLINESS  OF  JESUS. 

It  is  not  easy  to  be  a  man,  a  true,  noble,  Christlike 
man.  It  means  continual  struggle,  for  enemies  of 
manliness  meet  us  at  every  step ;  every  inch  of  the 
way  must  be  won  in  battle.  It  means  constant  ro- 
straint  and  repression ;  for  the  old  man  in  us  must 
be  subdued  and  kept  under  by  the  new  man  we  have 
resolved  to  be.  It  means  constant,  painful  disci- 
pline ;  for  the  powers  of  nature  are  unruly,  and  hard 
to  tame  and  control.  It  means  unending  toil  and 
self-denial ;  for  we  must  climb  ever  upward,  and  the 
way  is  steep  and  rugged,  and  self  must  be  trampled 
to  death  under  our  feet  as  we  rise  to  higher  life.  It 
is  hard  to  be  a  true  man,  for  all  the  odds  seem 
against  us.  But  Christ  lives,  and  He  is  Helper, 
Friend,  and  Guide  to  every  man  who  will  accept 
Him. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE     LIVING     CHRIST. 

"  Our  changeful  lives  are  ebbing  to  an  end — 
Onward  to  darkness  and  to  death  we  tend  ; 
O  Conqueror  of  the  grave,  be  Thou  our  guide, 
Be  Thou  our  light  in  death's  dark  eventide ; 
Then  in  our  mortal  hour  will  be  no  gloom, 
No  sting  in  death,  no  terror  in  the  tomb." 

IT  always  does  us  good  to  let  the  gospel  of  a  risen, 
living  Christ  afresh  into  our  heart.  We  need 
it  in  our  life  of  care  and  struggle.  It  is  an  old  truth, 
but  it  is  one  we  forget — one,  at  least,  whose  power 
over  us  needs  constant  renewal. 

The  women  were  heart-broken  when  they  found 
not  the  body  of  their  Friend  in  the  sepulchre.  But 
suppose  they  had  found  it  there,  still  held  in  the 
power  of  death — suppose  Jesus  had  never  risen — 
what  would  have  been  the  consequences  ?  It  would 
have  been  as  if  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  were  all 
blotted  from  the  sky. 

If  you  lay  imprisoned  in  some  great  fortress,  and 
one  who  loved  you  went  forth  to  try  to  rescue  you, 
and  fell  and  died  fighting  upon  the  walls,  you  would 


236  THE  LIVING  CHRIST. 

cherish  the  memory  of  your  friend's  valiant  effort  on 
your  behalf,  but  you  would  still  remain  in  chains, 
undelivered.  So  would  it  have  been  with  those 
whom  Christ  came  to  save  if  He  had  perished  in 
death  and  had  not  risen.  He  would  have  been 
defeated  in  His  great  effort,  and  those  for  whom  He 
gave  His  life  would  have  been  undelivered.  Think 
of  all  the  hopes  of  which  the  empty  grave  is  the 
symbol — hopes  for  ourselves  and  for  our  dead  who 
have  fallen  asleep  in  Jesus ;  hopes  for  this  life  and 
for  the  life  to  come — and  remember  that  none  of 
these  would  have  been  ours  if  the  women  had  found 
the  body  of  Jesus  in  the  grave  that  morning. 

The  angel  said  He  was  risen.  Until  that  morning, 
death  had  been  an  unquestioned  conqueror.  Into 
his  dark  realms  he  had  been  gathering  his  harvests 
from  all  the  generations  of  men.  Every  human  life 
— the  rich,  the  poor,  the  great,  the  small,  the  strong, 
the  weak — had  been  compelled  to  yield  to  death's 
sceptre  and  to  pass  under  his  yoke.  Nor  had  any 
ever  come  again  from  his  dark  prison.  True,  a  few 
persons  in  Old  Testament  days,  and  a  few  at  the 
bidding  of  our  Lord  Himself,  had  been  returned  to 
life ;  but  these  were  not  resurrections.  They  only 
came  back  for  a  little  while  to  the  old  life  of 
struggle,  suffering,  sorrow,  and  pain.  Until  that  first 
Easter  morning,  no  one  had  ever  disputed  death's 
sway  or  wrested  himself  from  the  grasp  of  the 
conqueror. 


THE  LIVING  CHRIST.  237 

"  Why  seek  ye  the  living  among  the  dead  ? "  asked 
the  angel.  A  marginal  reading  is,  "  him  that 
liveth  " — that  is,  the  One  alone  who  really  lives.  He 
lives  in  Himself — a  life  underived,  independent, 
original.  Our  lives  are  only  fragments.  We  do  not 
have  life  in  ourselves.  How  frail  we  are,  even 
physically,  fainting  under  light  burdens,  tiring  on 
short  journeys !  How  weak  we  are  in  our  purposes, 
in  our  endeavours,  and  how  we  falter  and  fail  in  our 
efforts !  How  helpless  we  are  in  the  face  of  opposi- 
tion, driven  like  swirling  autumn  leaves  before  the 
storms !  How  little  we  accomplish !  How  small  an 
impression  we  make  on  the  world's  life !  But  in 
contrast  with  all  this,  think  of  the  infinite  life  of 
Christ,  perfect,  full,  rich,  changeless,  eternal.  He  is 
the  Life,  the  living  One.  We  live  only  in  Him. 
Our  broken  fragments  of  life  have  their  hope  only 
in  His  eternal  life. 

The  women  had  brought  spices,  expecting  to  find 
His  body  wrapped  in  burial  garments,  lying  in  the 
rock.  "  He  is  not  here,"  said  the  angel.  Too  many 
Christians  look  yet  for  their  Christ  among  the  dead. 
They  do  not  get  beyond  the  cross  and  the  grave. 
They  see  Christ  as  the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world.  They  think  of  Him  as  accom- 
plishing in  His  passion  the  whole  of  His  work  of 
human  redemption.  They  do  not  think  of  a  living 
Christ  who  intercedes  for  them  in  heaven,  and  who 
walks  with  them  on  earth  in  loving  companionship. 


238  THE  LIVING  CHKIST. 

The  cross  must  never  be  forgotten.  In  a  certain 
very  real  sense  Christ  saved  the  world  by  giving 
Himself  for  it. 

11  From  Thy  blessed  gloom 
The  hope  of  all  the  world  doth  rise  and  sing ; 
By  Thy  sweet  pain  immortal  joy  is  won ; 
And  in  the  happy  shadow  of  Thy  tomb 
Is  hid  the  root  of  Easter's  blossoming." 

There  could  have  been  no  Easter  without  a  Good 
Friday,  no  rising  again  without  the  dying  on  the 
cross.  Christ  must  taste  death  for  every  man  before 
He  could  offer  deathless  life  to  every  man.  The  mark 
of  the  cross  is  on  every  hope  of  Christian  faith.  The 
light  that  shines  in  soft  lustre  throughout  the  world 
streams  from  Calvary.  The  sorrow  of  that  day  is 
that  which  is  softening  all  human  hearts  and  mak- 
ing all  life  gentler  and  sweeter.  The  cross  was  the 
fullest,  completest  revealing  of  love  that  earth  has 
ever  seen.  There  the  heart  of  God  broke,  that  its 
streams  of  life  might  flow  out  to  give  life  to  the 
world.  To  leave  a  dying  Christ  out  of  our  creed  is 
to  leave  out  salvation.  The  prints  of  the  nails  are 
the  proof -marks  on  all  doctrine,  on  all  theology,  on 
all  Christian  life.  He  who  dims  the  lustre  of  the 
cross  of  Christ  is  putting  out  the  light  of  Christian 
hope  by  which  alone  souls  can  be  lighted  homeward. 
In  the  holy  sacrament,  which  means  so  much  to 
Christian  faith,  it  is  the  broken  body  and  the  blood 
of  Christ  that  are  kept  before  the  eye  of  believers 


THE  LIVING  CHRIST.  239 

by  the  sacred  memorials.  We  must  never  forget 
that  Jesus  was  dead — dead  for  us. 

But  if  our  faith  stops  at  the  cross,  it  misses  the 
blessing  of  the  fullest  revealing  of  Christ.  We  need 
not  merely  a  Saviour  who  nineteen  hundred  years 
ago  went  to  death  to  redeem  us,  but  one  who  also  is 
alive  to  walk  by  our  side  in  loving  companionship. 
We  want  a  Saviour  who  can  hear  our  prayers — to 
whose  feet  we  can  creep  in  penitence  when  we  have 
sinned — to  whom  we  can  call  for  help  when  the 
battle  is  going  against  us ;  a  Saviour  who  is  inter- 
ested in  all  of  the  affairs  of  our  common  life,  and 
who  can  assist  us  in  time  of  need — who  can  be  our 
real  Friend,  loving  us,  keeping  close  beside  us 
always — 

"  Closer  than  breathing,  nearer  than  hands  and  feet." 

We  want  a  Saviour  who  saves  us  not  alone  by  one 
great  act  wrought  centuries  ago,  but  by  a  life  warm 
and  throbbing  with  love  to-day,  walking  ever  by 
our  side. 

It  is  for  love  that  our  hearts  hunger.  The  bread 
that  will  satisfy  us  is  not  the  bread  merely  of 
memorial,  the  memory  of  a  great  devotion  and  sacri- 
fice long,  long  since,  but  the  bread  of  love,  living, 
present,  warm,  and  throbbing.  Nothing  less  than  a 
living  Christ  will  do  for  us.  That  is  what  the  gospel 
brings  to  us.  It  tells  us  of  Him  that  liveth.  He 
was  dead — the  nail -prints  are  in  His  hands — but  He 


240  THE  LIVING  CHRIST. 

is  now  alive  for  evermore.     He  is  risen.     He  love? 
us  now,  to-day,  always.     He  is  with  us. 

While  we  praise  the  love  that  was  crucified  for  us, 
we  crave  love  from  a  Saviour  who  lives.  Memories 
of  affection  are  not  enough  to  feed  a  hungry  soul. 
Memories  of  a  friend  who  has  gone  away  may  be 
very  sweet.  They  fill  our  life  with  fragrance.  The 
odours  of  love  departed  stay  in  a  home,  like  the 
perfume  of  sweet  flowers  when  the  flowers  have 
been  borne  away.  But  how  unsatisfying  are  the 
mere  memories  of  our  friend  when  our  heart  hungers 
for  love's  presence  and  touch  and  tenderness  !  No 
more  will  the  mere  memories  of  the  love  that  died 
on  the  cross  for  us  satisfy  our  cravings  for  Christ. 
"  My  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  for  the  living  God," 
cries  every  human  heart.  It  is  only  as  we  realize 
the  truth  of  a  living  Christ  that  our  hearts  are 
satisfied.  We  crave  love — a  presence,  a  bosom  to 
lean  upon,  a  hand  to  touch  ours,  a  heart  whose  beat- 
ings we  can  feel,  a  personal  friendship  that  will 
come  into  our  life  with  its  sympathies,  its  inspira- 
tions, its  companionship,  its  shelter,  its  life,  its  com- 
fort. All  this  the  living  Christ  is  to  us. 

"  For  warm,  sweet,  tender,  even  yet 

A  present  help  is  He ; 
And  faith  has  still  its  Olivet, 
And  love  its  Galilee." 

The  angel's  word  to  the  women,  with  its  gentle 
chiding,  may  be  spoken  also  to  Christians  whose 


THE  LIVING  CHRIST.  241 

dead  have  been  laid  in  the  grave — "Why  seek  ye 
him  that  liveth  among  the  dead  ? "  We  think  of 
our  friends  as  in  the  grave  instead  of  in  heaven. 
Sacred,  indeed,  becomes  the  little  spot  in  "  God's 
acre  "  where  sleeps  the  form  of  our  beloved.  All  we 
know  of  our  friends  is  associated  with  their  bodily 
presence.  The  soul  looks  out  through  eyes  that  we 
can  see.  The  love  that  is  so  tender  reveals  itself 
to  us  in  the  touch  of  a  real  hand,  in  the  tones  of 
a  human  voice,  and  in  the  glow  of  a  living  face. 
Everything  about  the  dear  life  becomes  sacred — the 
attitudes,  the  step  on  the  floor,  the  chair,  the  room, 
the  desk,  the  books,  the  tools,  the  garments,  the 
places  made  familiar  by  association.  We  cannot  see 
the  inner  life ;  we  know  our  friend  only  in  the  form 
in  which  his  spirit  lives.  Hence  it  is  hard  for  us 
to  think  of  him  apart  from  this  well-known  form. 
When  death  has  come,  and  the  body  is  only  a  frail 
and  empty  tent  out  of  which  our  friend  has  moved, 
it  is  hard  for  us  to  think  of  him  as  being  elsewhere. 
It  is  natural  that  we  should  prize  still  the  form  that 
has  grown  so  dear. 

The  women  came  with  their  spices  to  anoint  the 
body  of  Jesus.  That  was  beautiful.  It  is  fitting 
that  we  plant  flowers  upon  the  graves  where  the 
bodies  of  our  beloved  sleep.  We  keep  in  sacred 
remembrance  everything  in  which  they  live.  We 
believe,  too,  in  the  truth  of  resurrection.  Christ  has 
conquered  death,  and  holds  in  His  hand  the  keys  of 

(638)  16 


242  THE  LIVING  CHRIST. 

the  grave.  Our  beloved  shall  rise  again.  It  is  right, 
therefore,  that  we  should  honour  the  body  of  the 
friend  who  was  so  much  to  us  in  life. 

But  too  many  think  of  their  Christian  dead  only 
as  sleeping  in  the  grave.  Their  eyes  look  down  into 
the  darkness  of  the  tomb  with  sad  longing,  and  not 
upward  toward  the  brightness  of  heaven  with 
blessed  hope.  The  angel's  voice  is  heard  to-day, 
speaking  to  every  sorrowing  heart :  "  Why  seek  ye 
the  living  among  the  dead  ? "  Our  sainted  ones 
have  entered  into  life. 

The  truth  of  the  living  Christ  should  lift  all  our 
days  out  of  dreary  commonplace  and  fill  them  with 
heavenly  brightness.  If  only  we  realized  the  power 
of  the  endless  life,  it  would  make  all  life  glorious. 
The  expectation  of  continuance,  of  a  future,  affects 
all  our  life.  If  we  knew  there  would  be  no  to-mor- 
row, that  when  the  sun  goes  down  to-night  it  would 
not  rise  again,  that  with  the  night's  horizon  all  life 
hereafter  would  be  cut  off,  the  tasks  to  be  taken  up 
again  no  more  for  ever,  would  we  care  for  the  things 
we  are  doing?  It  is  the  hope  of  to-morrow  that 
gives  meaning  to  the  duties  and  tasks  of  to-day. 
The  things  we  are  doing  seem  worth  doing  because 
they  are  beginnings  which  shall  have  their  fuller 
meanings,  their  completeness,  in  the  days  to  come. 
It  is  hope  that  gives  interest  and  zest  to  life. 

Richter  tells  of  a  beautiful  dream.  He  was  lost 
in  the  vast  spaces,  and  he  saw  sailing  toward  him, 


THE  LIVING  CHRIST.  243 

amid  galaxies  of  stars,  a  dark  globe  in  a  sea  of  light. 
He  saw  on  it  a  little  child.  At  last  he  recognized 
our  earth  in  the  dark  globe,  and  in  the  form  of  the 
child  Jesus,  who  looked  upon  him  with  a  light  so 
bright,  gentle,  and  loving,  that  he  awoke  for  joy. 
No  matter  how  dark  life  may  seem  to  us,  while  the 
living  Christ  appears  all  is  well.  His  presence  illu- 
mines any  gloom ;  the  shining  of  His  face  gives  peace 
in  any  storm. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

FRIENDSHIPS  IN  HEAVEN. 

"  It  seemeth  such  a  little  way  to  me 

Across  to  that  strange  country,  the  beyond, — 
And  yet  not  strange,  for  it  has  grown  to  be 
The  home  of  those  of  whom  I  am  so  fond ; 
They  make  it  seem  familiar  and  most  dear, 
As  journeying  friends  bring  distant  countries  near. 

"  And  so  to  me  there  is  no  sting  to  death, 

And  so  the  grave  has  lost  its  victory  ; 
It  is  but  crossing,  with  abated  breath 

And  white,  set  face,  a  little  strip  of  sea, 
To  find  the  loved  ones  waiting  on  the  shore, 
More  beautiful,  more  precious  than  before." 

THERE  is  a  story  of  a  ship  whose  crew  were 
rendered  unfit  for  their  duties  by  coming  in 
sight  of  their  home-land.  For  many  years  they  had 
been  cruising  in  foreign  waters.  At  last  they  came 
near  their  native  hills.  From  the  look-out  came  the 
shout,  "Home!"  Instantly  all  the  men  were  wild 
with  excitement.  Some  climbed  the  masts,  some 
stood  on  deck  and  strained  their  eyes  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  dear  scenes.  Every  heart  beat  with 
mingled  hope  and  joy.  Old  memories  came  throng- 


FRIENDSHIPS  IN  HEAVEN.  245 

ing  back.  Wives  and  children  and  parents  and 
homes  were  there.  In  their  delight  the  men  left 
their  posts,  and  the  ship  was  at  the  mercy  of  the 
waves.  Other  sailors  had  to  be  gotten  from  the 
shore  to  bring  the  vessel  to  her  landing. 

Somewhat  like  this  would  it  be  with  us  in  this 
world  if  we  could  see  heaven  and  its  inhabitants, 
our  loved  ones  among  them,  and  all  the  glories  of 
that  blessed  home.  We  would  be  unfit  for  our 
duties  here.  In  our  excitement  of  joy  we  should 
become  unfit  for  our  earthly  tasks.  It  is  better  that 
we  should  not  know  all  about  heaven.  It  is  mercy 
that  draws  the  veil  before  our  eyes. 

Yet  in  our  life  here  the  question  continually  arises: 
"  Will  it  all  end  when  death  parts  us  ? "  My  father 
and  mother  lived  together  more  than  forty  years, 
until  they  seemed  to  have  only  one  soul,  so  closely 
had  their  lives  blended.  They  thought  alike,  talked 
alike,  almost  looked  alike.  My  father  died  first,  and 
after  that  my  mother's  loneliness  was  pathetic  to 
behold.  She  did  not  complain;  she  was  sweetly 
submissive  to  God's  will.  But  her  thoughts  were 
not  on  earth.  She  pined  for  the  companionship  she 
had  lost.  "  I  want  to  go  too,"  she  would  sometimes 
say.  In  a  little  time  she  slipped  away.  Did  they 
meet  again,  those  two  gentle  lovers,  who  had  lived 
together  so  long  that  their  two  souls  had  blended 
into  one  ? 

Some  Sadducees  came  to  Jesus  with  a  question. 


246  FRIENDSHIPS  IN  HEAVEN. 

A  woman  had  been  married  seven  times :  which  of 
the  seven  men  would  have  her  as  his  wife  after  the 
resurrection  ?  The  Master  answered  clearly :  "  The 
children  of  this  world  marry,  and  are  given  in  mar- 
riage :  but  they  that  are  accounted  worthy  to  attain 
to  that  world,  and  the  resurrection  from  the  dead, 
neither  marry,  nor  are  given  in  marriage." 

What  is  the  teaching?  Very  clearly  this — that 
marriage  is  a  relation  only  for  this  earthly  life,  and 
that  it  will  not  be  re-established  in  the  heavenly 
state.  Nor  will  the  marriage  ties  of  earth  be  resumed 
as  such  in  heaven.  The  husband  and  wife  will  not 
meet  again  as  husband  and  wife  in  the  new  society 
of  heaven. 

Does  this  teaching  startle  some  one?  Does  it 
mean  that  two  who  have  lived  together  on  earth 
as  husband  and  wife,  in  tender  and  holy  relations, 
praying  side  by  side,  and  walking  together  in  the 
way  of  God's  commandments,  shall  not  meet  together 
in  heaven  and  resume  their  close  fellowship  ?  No ; 
Christ  said  not  one  word  which  can  be  construed  to 
mean  this.  Husband  and  wife  will  not  resume  the 
marriage  relation  there,  but  if  their  hearts  are  knit 
together  here  in  pure  and  holy  love,  they  will  meet 
there  in  holy  love.  Certainly  those  who  have  had 
so  much  in  common,  who  have  suffered  together, 
toiled  together,  sacrificed  together,  sorrowed  hand  in 
hand,  if  their  lives  are  truly  knit  the  one  to  the 
other,  will  take  up  again  the  old  threads  of  love  and 


FRIENDSHIPS  IN  HEAVEN.  247 

go  on  for  ever  weaving  them  into  a  web  of  imperish- 
able beauty. 

Note  a  few  things  about  the  heavenly  life.  One 
is,  that  all  the  redeemed  shall  dwell  together  as 
one  family.  The  true  home-life  is  a  faint  type  of 
heaven's  fellowship.  Yet  the  purest  earthly  home 
is  imperfect.  Home  has  been  called  "  heaven's  fallen 
sister."  The  fellowships  of  heaven  will  be  immea- 
surably sweeter  than  those  of  earth.  The  family  life 
will  be  perfect.  While  your  associations  with  your 
earthly  kindred  will  be  close  and  tender  in  propor- 
tion to  the  closeness  and  depth  of  your  affection  here, 
the  family  will  embrace  a  far  wider  circle.  You 
will  meet  the  saints  of  all  ages — patriarchs,  prophets, 
apostles,  martyrs.  All  who  have  ever  lived  a  godly 
life  will  be  your  brothers  and  sisters.  What  a  privi- 
lege it  will  be  to  commune  with  those  whose  lives 
so  brightened  the  world  while  they  were  in  it,  and 
whose  influence  has  lived  since  they  have  gone,  a 
perpetual  benediction  in  this  world !  What  a  won- 
derful company  it  will  be,  that  complete  company 
of  the  redeemed,  gathered  from  all  lands  and  from 
all  ages ! 

Think  of  all  those  who  have  blessed  the  world 
and  helped  in  its  regeneration — the  poets  who  have 
sung  the  world's  pure  songs,  the  artists  whose  pic- 
tures have  been  inspirations  to  so  many  souls,  the 
missionaries  who  have  carried  Christ's  name  into 
the  dark  places,  the  mothers  who  have  lived  to  train 


248  FRIENDSHIPS  IN  HEAVEN. 

children  for  God,  the  great  men  who  have  led  in  the 
world's  reformations,  the  sweet  lives  which  have 
been  like  gentle,  fragrant  flowers  in  this  earth's 
wildernesses,  the  holy  ones  who  have  resisted  temp- 
tations, keeping  themselves  unspotted  from  the  world, 
those  who  have  suffered  wrong  in  silence,  those  who 
have  lived  deeply,  learning  life's  lessons  well  and 
then  teaching  those  lessons  in  books  that  throb  with 
human  sympathy,  in  songs  that  teach  others  how  to 
live  and  how  to  love.  How  our  feelings  overmaster 
us  as  we  try  to  think  of  that  great  family  of  God  in 
which  we  shall  find  ourselves  as  members — children 
of  God,  children  of  the  resurrection!  All  the  precious 
things  of  human  life,  gathered  out  of  all  the  ages, 
shall  be  there.  Not  a  gleam  of  true  beauty  that  has 
ever  flashed  its  beam  in  this  world's  darkness  has 
been  lost. 

Think  of  living,  even  here  on  earth,  in  a  company, 
a  community,  composed  of  the  one  thousand  best, 
noblest,  most  holy  and  most  refined  people  to  be 
gathered  from  all  lands;  every  life  a  song,  every 
face  bearing  the  beauty  of  Christ,  every  character 
rich  with  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit — love,  joy,  peace, 
long-suffering,  gentleness,  meekness,  goodness ;  every 
spirit  full  of  the  best  human  life  sweetened  by  heav- 
enly grace.  It  would  be  supreme  happiness  to  be 
one  of  such  company,  comprising  the  best  people  of 
this  earth.  Heaven  will  be  far  better  than  this,  for 
it  will  have  in  it  the  best  of  all  ages — not  as  they 


FRIENDSHIPS  IN  HEAVEN.  249 

were  here,  with  earthly  limitations,  only  fragments 
of  beauty  appearing  in  them,  marred,  too,  by  sinful 
things  and  by  human  frailties  ;  but  made  perfect  in 
love,  in  holiness,  in  all  Christian  life.  The  "  whole 
family  "  will  comprise  the  redeemed  of  all  ages  and 
countries,  the  spirits  of  all  just  men  made  perfect. 
While  we  shall  lose  nothing  out  of  the  life  of  friend- 
ship we  have  lived  here — keeping  every  friend — we 
shall  gain  immeasurably  by  having  the  good  of  all 
ages  for  our  brothers  and  sisters. 

But  some  one  says,  "  I  do  not  care  for  this  great 
family,  this  circle  that  takes  in  all  the  world.  I 
want  my  own.  I  never  cared  to  have  many  friends. 
I  want  my  own  mother  and  father,  my  sister,  my 
child,  my  husband,  my  wife,  my  little  circle — I  want 
these  to  be  my  friends  in  heaven."  Well,  you  will 
have  these,  if  they  and  you  are  truly  united  in 
Christ  in  this  world.  The  Bible  speaks  of  reunions 
in  the  other  life.  When  David's  child  died,  the 
father  spoke  of  it  as  only  carried  over  into  another 
home,  where  it  would  wait  for  him.  "I  cannot 
bring  him  back  to  me,"  he  said,  "  but  I  shall  go  to 
him."  The  separation  would  be  only  for  a  time. 
There  would  be  a  reunion.  The  father  would  have 
his  child  again.  In  the  multitude  of  friendships, 
new  and  old,  in  heaven,  this  one — of  the  king  and 
his  little  child — would  be  distinct  and  blessed. 

The  same  teaching  underlies  all  the  revealings  of 
the  Bible  concerning  the  heavenly  life.  For  example, 


250  FRIENDSHIPS  IN  HEAVEN. 

love  is  the  sum  of  all  life.  From  Genesis  to  Revela- 
tion men  are  taught  to  love.  God's  own  character  is 
painted  in  one  word — "  God  is  love."  Then  we  are 
taught  to  be  like  God,  to  seek  the  restoring  of  the 
image  of  God  in  our  souls.  All  duty  is  summed  up 
in  the  commandments  in  the  one  word :  "  Thou 
shalt  love."  Jesus  came  to  reveal  God,  and  He  bade 
His  followers  to  love.  By  this  mark,  He  said,  all  men 
should  know  that  they  were  His  disciples,  because 
they  were  loving.  We  say  John  reached  the  highest 
place  among  the  disciples,  and  was  dearest  to  Christ, 
and  nearest,  and  John  was  the  disciple  of  love.  Love 
blossomed  out  in  his  life  in  its  finest  beauty.  Thus 
all  Christian  culture  is  toward  love.  Home  is 
Christ's  first  school,  and  home  life  is  simply  learning 
to  love.  Friendship  is  another  school.  Friendship 
is  discipline.  With  all  its  frictions,  its  anxieties,  its 
thought,  its  toil,  its  self-denial,  its  training  in  pa- 
tience, forbearance,  and  meekness,  it  is  simply  a  long 
lesson  in  loving.  All  through  the  New  Testament 
we  are  taught  to  love.  The  fruits  of  the  Spirit 
named  by  St.  Paul  are  merely  branches  of  love,  parts 
of  the  lesson  of  loving.  "  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of 
the  law."  If  we  have  learned  to  love  truly,  purely, 
loving  not  in  word  only  but  in  deed,  we  have  met 
all  the,  requirements  of  God's  commandments.  The 
whole  work  of  the  Bible  and  of  the  divine  Spirit  in 
us  is  to  build  up  love  in  our  character. 

Now  when,  in  obedience  to  this  holy  teaching,  we 


FRIENDSHIPS  IN  HEAVEN.  251 

spend  our  thirty,  fifty,  seventy  years  in  learning  to 
love,  will  God  destroy  all  this  affection,  undo  all 
this  beautiful  work,  in  death  ?  Is  heaven  so  dif- 
ferent from  earth  that  what  grace  teaches  us  here 
is  the  one  essential  of  a  beautiful  life  shall  have 
no  place  in  the  new  life  ?  Is  love  only  a  senti- 
ment of  earth,  unworthy  of  heaven  ?  No,  no ; 
love  is  immortal.  St.  Paul  says,  "  Love  never 
faileth."  The  love  that  is  wrought  into  our  charac- 
ter is  imperishable.  When  we  have  formed  a  true 
friendship  with  another,  heart  and  heart  knitting 
together,  the  bond  is  indissoluble.  The  external  and 
earthly  form  of  marriage  does  not  last  over  into  the 
heavenly  life,  but  the  real  marriage  does  last;  the 
love  which  binds  the  two  lives  together  in  one,  death 
cannot  touch.  Kinship  of  blood  will  not  have  any 
place  in  heaven,  but  the  ties  that  really  bind  kindred 
together,  brothers  and  sisters,  parents  and  children, 
will  continue,  tender  and  strong,  in  the  new  life. 

The  friendships  there  will  not  be  the  continuation 
of  the  mere  formal  attachments  of  earth,  too  many 
of  which  are  empty  of  love.  People  will  not  be  close 
friends  in  heaven  because  they  happened  to  be  hus- 
band and  wife,  brother  and  sister  here,  but  because 
here  they  have  truly  loved  each  other.  If  a  man 
and  a  woman  live  in  the  same  house  and  eat  at  the 
same  table  for  forty  years,  and  yet  do  not  really  love 
each  other,  their  lives  never  truly  blending,  there  is 
no  reason  for  believing  that  they  will  be  special 


252  FRIENDSHIPS  IN  HEAVEN. 

friends  in  heaven.  They  never  were  such  here. 
Marriage  ties  as  such  will  be  dissolved  at  the 
grave's  edge. 

It  is  very  clear,  then,  that  nothing  but  true  union 
of  hearts  will  survive  death.  Passion  dies  at  the 
grave ;  all  sin  goes  down  into  the  dust  and  perishes. 
Selfishness  is  mortal  and  undivine.  But  love  that  is 
pure,  disinterested,  unselfish,  free  from  passion  and 
earthliness — the  love  that  springs  out  of  the  heart's 
depths  and  twines  in  tenderness  about  another  life — 
that  shall  last  for  ever.  Jonathan's  and  David's 
friendship  is  going  on  yet  in  heaven;  so  is  Ruth's 
and  Naomi's ;  so  is  Paul's  and  Timothy's. 

If,  therefore,  we  would  have  our  earthly  friend- 
ships last  over,  we  must  be  truly  one  in  our  life  here. 
Nothing  that  is  not  real  can  enter  heaven.  All  that 
would  separate  must  be  put  away.  The  two  lives 
must  blend  in  tender,  thoughtful,  self-forgetful  love. 
The  same  is  true  of  all  home-ties  and  of  all  friend- 
ships. The  love  must  be  real.  Hearts  must  be  knit 
together. 

It  is  worth  while,  therefore,  to  cultivate  our  friend- 
ships, and  to  seek  to  make  them  abiding  and  true. 
Perhaps  we  are  too  careless  in  this.  We  do  not  prize 
highly  enough  the  love  and  trust  of  others.  We 
make  too  little  of  hurting  other  hearts.  Ofttimes 
there  is  a  sundering  of  friends  here  which  is  sadder 
than  death's  sundering.  We  listen  to  the  talebearer's 
venomous  word,  and  henceforth  we  grow  away  from 


FRIENDSHIPS  IN  HEAVEN.  253 

our  friend.  There  are  friends  lost  who  are  living  yet, 
whom  we  see  every  day,  mayhap,  but  who  are  lost 
to  us.  They  and  we  have  drifted  apart.  The  old 
tenderness  is  a  buried  thing.  There  are  husbands 
and  wives,  walking  together,  dwelling  under  the  same 
roof,  maintaining  formal  relations  of  intimacy,  and 
yet  a  thousand  miles  apart. 

This  ought  not  so  to  be.  We  ought  never  to  drift 
apart  when  once  our  hearts  are  drawn  together. 
Friendship  needs  cultivation.  It  requires  great 
patience,  self-denial,  thoughtfulness,  sympathy,  affec- 
tion, to  be  a  friend.  But  it  is  worth  while.  We 
should  cherish  our  friends.  We  should  make  our 
friendships  like  Christ's,  and  He  loves  unto  the  utter- 
most. We  should  build  for  eternity.  We  should 
weave  webs  of  friendship  here  which  shall  remain 
beautiful  and  radiant  in  the  other  life. 

Does  not  this  hope  make  it  worth  while  to  guard 
our  friendships  here  ?  Shall  we  not  learn  to  be  better, 
truer  friends,  more  patient,  more  constant,  more 
thoughtful,  more  faithful?  Shall  we  not  seek  to 
have  Christ  as  the  bond  of  union  in  every  friendship  ? 
No  friendship  is  sure  and  complete,  and  no  friendship 
can  go  on  in  heaven,  without  this  golden  thread  as 
one  of  its  cords. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING. 

"They  are  poor 

Who  have  lost  nothing ;  they  are  poorer  far 
Who,  losing,  have  forgotten  ;  they  most  poor 
Of  all  who  lose  and  wish  they  might  forget. 
For  life  is  one,  and  in  its  warp  and  woof 
There  runs  a  thread  of  gold  that  glitters  fair, 
And  sometimes  in  the  pattern  shows  most  sweet 
Where  there  are  sombre  colours.    It  is  true 
That  we  have  wept.    But,  oh,  this  thread  of  gold, 
We  would  not  have  it  tarnish ;  let  us  turn 
Oft  and  look  back  upon  the  wondrous  web, 
And  when  it  shineth  sometimes,  we  shall  know 
That  memory  is  possession." 

JEAN  INGELOW. 

IT  is  a  great  thing  to  learn  to  live  in  the  future. 
St.  Paul  put  the  lesson  in  very  plain  words 
when  he  said :  "  Forgetting  those  things  which  are 
behind,  and  reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which 
are  before,  I  press  toward  the  mark."  To  get  the 
full  force  of  these  words,  it  must  be  remembered 
that  they  were  written  when  St.  Paul  was  an  old 
man.  It  is  no  unusual  thing  for  the  young  to  look 
forward.  The  world  is  all  before  them.  They  have 


THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING.  255 

only  stepped  on  the  edge  of  life,  and  there  lies  before 
them  an  unopened,  untraversed  future,  full  of  bright, 
beautiful  visions  and  brilliant  hopes.  It  draws  them 
forward  by  its  thousand  golden  possibilities  of  at- 
tainment, achievement,  success.  It  is  full  of  sweet- 
voiced  birds  of  prophecy.  Youth  has  no  past, 
nothing  to  leave  behind ;  all  its  treasures  are  on 
before.  It  is  natural,  therefore,  for  the  young  to 
look  on  and  press  forward. 

But  ordinarily  it  is  not  so  with  the  old.  As  the 
years  advance,  they  look  back  more  and  more.  The 
future  has  less  and  less  to  draw  them  on.  The  past 
is  their  treasure-house.  It  holds  the  best  things  of 
their  life — their  best  work,  their  sweetest  joys,  their 
tenderest  friendships.  They  have  little  more  to 
win.  In  the  short  path  before  them  there  are 
but  few  flowers  which  they  can  hope  to  pluck. 
There  is  but  little  room  for  new  achievement. 
They  can  make  no  new  friendships.  It  is  natural 
for  the  old  to  look  backward — to  live  in  memory, 
not  in  hope. 

But  here  we  see  an  old  man  who  lives  wholly  in 
the  future.  He  was  a  prisoner.  He  was  broken  by 
much  suffering  and  hardship.  It  certainly  was  not  a 
bright  earthly  outlook  that  he  had  from  his  dungeon 
grating.  Would  you  not  say,  looking  at  him,  that 
the  best,  the  brightest,  the  grandest  part  of  his  career 
was  behind  him  ?  What  could  there  be  in  the  future 
for  that  weary,  broken  old  man  ?  What  new  lands 


256  THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING. 

could  he  hope  to  explore  ?  What  new  achievements 
could  he  expect  yet  to  make  ? 

Yet  here  he  stands,  amid  his  life's  evening 
shadows,  and  declares  that  his  sublimest  work  lies 
yet  before  him,  that  he  has  not  yet  attained  his  life's 
goal,  that  his  best  has  not  yet  been  reached.  "  I  care 
nothing  for  anything  in  my  past,"  he  says ;  "  it  does 
not  satisfy  me.  It  is  not  worth  counting.  Old  and 
broken  though  I  be,  hemmed  in,  too,  by  these  op- 
pressive limitations,  these  walls,  these  chains,  yet  I 
am  not  at  the  end  of  my  life ;  an  unquenchable 
hope  lives  in  my  heart,  and  the  star  of  my  life 
shines  far  onward." 

So  we  see  him  there,  in  the  thickening  shadows  of 
life's  evening-time,  in  the  mists  of  gathering  twi- 
light, weary,  worn,  wearing  chains,  but  still  full  of 
hope,  still  straining  every  energy,  still  reaching  for- 
ward, still  forgetting  the  past,  still  drawn  irresistibly 
on  toward  some  great  aim,  some  glorious  goal,  that 
lies  beyond,  unseen  by  mortal  eyes.  At  length  night 
falls  upon  the  vanishing  form ;  it  passes  out  of  our 
sight ;  we  see  the  old  man  going  at  last  to  a  martyr's 
death.  But  his  eyes  are  yet  fixed  on  something 
bright  and  glorious  beyond.  In  the  last  words  we 
catch  from  his  lips,  he  speaks  of  a  crown  laid  up  for 
him.  The  last  glimpse  of  him  we  have,  with  white 
locks  tossed  by  the  wind,  with  eyes  fixed  steadily 
and  intently  upon  the  Beyond,  he  is  still  pressing  on. 

The  secret  was  this — he  had  in  his  eyes  a  distinct 


THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING.  257 

and  definite  future ;  a  future  not  bounded  by  death's 
horizon,  but  running  on  into  eternity.  Immortality 
was  real  to  him.  No  runner  in  a  race  ever  saw  goal 
or  garland  more  vividly  than  this  glorious,  eagle- 
eyed  man  saw  the  end  of  his  course,  the  goal  of  his 
life.  Nor  was  it  any  earthly  vision  that  drew  him 
on ;  had  it  been,  hope  would  have  been  dead  in  his 
heart  in  the  broken  years  of  his  old  age.  He  saw 
life  sweeping  on  through  death  and  beyond  it,  and 
so  he  looked  forward  to  the  future,  when  he  would 
reach  his  loftiest  attainments.  Nothing  good,  beauti- 
ful, true,  or  real  would  end  for  him  at  the  grave. 

What  were  the  things  which  were  before  that  old 
apostle  there  in  his  prison  ?  Nothing  very  bright, 
the  man  of  the  world  would  say.  A  few  days  of 
chains  and  dungeon-life,  then  the  axe,  and  then  a 
grave.  Cicero  said :  "  An  old  man  has  nothing  indeed 
to  hope  for ;  yet  he  is  in  so  much  the  happier  state 
than  a  young  man,  since  he  has  already  attained 
what  the  other  only  hopes  for."  To  this  heathen 
writer  there  was  nothing  before  old  age.  But  before 
the  Christian  old  man  there  are  far  more  blessed 
things  than  the  best  he  has  left  behind  him. 

What  are  some  of  the  things  that  are  before  us  ? 
The  sinless  purity  into  which  our  souls  shall  rise 
when  they  burst  away  from  this  which  we  call  life ; 
the  endless  growth  and  development  of  all  our  powers 
in  the  summer  of  God's  love ;  the  wondrous  career  of 

sublime  occupation  which  shall  be  ours  when  we 
(638) 


258  THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING. 

reach  our  full  redemption ;  the  perfect  beauty  of  the 
divine  likeness  which  shall  glow  on  our  dull  faces  in 
the  home  of  peace ;  the  eternal  blessedness  of  that  rest 
which  is  "  deep  as  summer  midnight,  yet  full  of  life 
and  force  as  summer  sunshine  " — the  rest  of  God,  into 
which  we  shall  enter.  The  best  of  life  is  yet  to  be. 

It  is  well  worth  our  while  to  study  the  way  in 
which  St.  Paul  sought  to  reach  the  better  things 
which  he  saw  before  him :  it  was  by  forgetting  the 
things  that  were  behind  him.  He  was  never  satisfied 
with  anything  here  as  his  final  attainment.  He 
found  on  earth  no  resting-place ;  his  home  ever  lay 
onward  and  upward.  He  lingered  in  no  place,  but 
ever  sought  a  country.  He  cared  little  what  to-day's 
circumstances  were — how  hard,  how  bare,  how  pain- 
ful— for  to-morrow  he  would  be  gone.  The  blessed 
hope  which  filled  his  soul  made  him  utterly  indif- 
ferent to  the  discomforts  of  the  present  moment.  He 
forgot  the  things  which  were  behind  him,  and  reached 
forth  to  the  things  which  were  before. 

Of  course,  there  is  a  proper  use  to  be  made  of  our 
past.  We  should  remember  the  lessons  we  have 
learned  from  past  experience,  so  as  to  profit  by  our 
mistakes,  and  avoid  repeating  them.  The  true  science 
of  living  is  not  to  make  no  mistakes,  which  is  im- 
possible, but  not  to  repeat  the  same  mistakes  a  second 
time.  We  should  remember  past  mercies  and  bless- 
ings. If  we  do,  memory  will  shine  down  upon  us 
like  a  clear  sky  full  of  stars.  Such  remembering  of 


THE  DUTY  OP  FORGETTING.  259 

the  past  will  keep  the  gratitude  ever  fresh  in  our 
hearts  and  the  incense  of  praise  ever  burning  on  the 
altar.  Such  a  house  of  memory  becomes  a  refuge  to 
which  we  may  flee  in  trouble.  When  sorrows  gather 
thickly,  when  trials  come  on  like  the  waves  of  the 
sea,  when  the  sun  goes  down  and  every  star  is 
quenched,  and  there  seems  nothing  left  to  us  in  all 
the  present,  then  the  memory  of  a  past  full  of  good- 
ness, a  past  in  which  God  never  once  failed  us, 
becomes  a  holy  refuge  for  us,  a  refuge  gemmed  and 
lighted  by  the  lamps  of  other  and  brighter  days. 
Thus  there  are  uses  of  the  past  which  bring  blessing. 
Memory  has  its  holy  office. 

But  there  is  a  sense  in  which  we  should  altogether 
forget  our  past.  We  should  forget  our  past  attain- 
ments. If  any  man  who  ever  lived  might  have  been 
satisfied  with  his  life,  St.  Paul  might  have  been  with 
his.  No  other  man  ever  got  nearer  to  Christ  than 
he  did.  No  other  ever  more  completely  put  the 
world  under  his  feet.  No  other  ever  realized  more 
of  Christlikeness  in  character.  No  other  ever  did  a 
greater  work  or  left  a  more  blessed,  fragrant  influence. 
Yet  there  was  no  elation,  no  feeling  even  of  satisfac- 
tion with  himself.  His  attainments  all  bore  to  his 
own  eye  marks  of  incompleteness.  He  never  looked 
back  to  find  comfort  in  good  things  he  had  done,  but 
cherished  always  a  sublime  discontent  with  himself, 
and  ever  looked  to  what  he  was  going  to  attain. 
The  attained  was  ever  dwarfed  and  impoverished  to 


260  THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING. 

his  eye  by  the  splendours  of  the  unattained.  It  was 
this  divine  unrest  that  made  St.  Paul  a  growing 
Christian  to  the  day  of  his  death.  Nothing  is  so 
fatal  to  all  Christian  progress  as  the  feeling  of  satis- 
faction with  one's  attainments.  When  a  man  sits 
down  and  says,  "  I  am  contented  now;  I  have  reached 
my  goal.  I  am  as  good  as  I  expect  to  be  in  this 
world.  I  never  aspire  to  anything  better  than  this 
work  I  have  just  finished,"  from  that  moment  he 
ceases  to  grow.  He  will  strive  no  more  and  make 
no  new  achievement. 

This  is  true  in  all  life.  The  want  of  appetite  is  a 
mark  of  physical  disease,  and  hunger  is  a  token  of 
health.  The  cessation  of  the  desire  to  learn  is  a  sign 
that  intellectual  growth  has  ended.  So  in  spiritual 
life  hunger  is  a  mark  of  health.  "  Blessed  are  they 
which  do  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness." 
Blessed  are  the  unsatisfied.  Blessed  are  they  who 
long  for  more  and  more.  All  through  the  Bible  we 
find  in  true  believers  a  thirst  for  God,  a  deep,  pas- 
sionate yearning  for  closer,  fuller,  richer,  more  satis- 
fying communion  with  God  Himself.  The  best  thing 
in  us  never  is  what  we  are,  what  we  have  already 
reached,  but  our  longing  for  that  which  is  yet 
higher  and  better.  The  trouble  with  too  many  of 
us  is  that  we  are  too  well  satisfied  with  ourselves. 
We  have  attained  a  little  measure  of  peace,  of  holi- 
ness, of  faith,  of  joy,  of  knowledge  of  Christ,  and  we 
are  not  hungering  for  the  larger  possible  attainments. 


THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING.  261 

Nothing  could  be  sadder  than  this  state — no  more 
longing,  no  more  growth,  no  more  hunger,  no  more 
feeding  upon  Christ,  no  more  aspiration,  no  more 
reaching  upward.  With  all  the  infinite  possibilities 
of  spiritual  life  before  us,  we  should  not  settle  down 
on  a  patch  of  dusty  ground  at  the  mountain's  foot 
in  any  restful  content.  Where  is  the  immortal  in  us 
if  we  can  be  satisfied  with  the  little  we  have  learned 
of  Christ,  the  little  we  have  attained  of  likeness  to 
Him  and  communion  with  Him  ?  We  should  pray 
for  spiritual  discontent. 

We  should  also  forget  past  sorrows.  Too  many 
people  live  perpetually  in  the  shadows  of  their  past 
griefs  and  losses.  They  feel  that  love  for  the 
friends  who  are  gone  requires  them  to  continue  in 
sadness,  and  therefore  they  dwell  year  after  year 
amid  the  memories  of  their  griefs.  Nothing  could 
be  more  unwholesome.  What  would  be  thought  of 
the  man  who  should  build  a  house  for  himself  with 
black  stones,  paint  all  the  walls  and  apartments 
black,  hang  black  curtains  over  the  dark  windows, 
put  black  carpet  on  every  floor,  festoon  the  chambers 
with  crape,  put  only  sad  pictures  on  the  walls  and 
gloomy  books  on  the  shelves,  and  who  should  have 
no  flowers  blooming  about  his  doors  or  windows  but 
flowers  for  funeral  wreaths,  no  trees  but  weeping- 
willows  and  cypresses?  Yet  there  are  people  who 
really  live  in  this  way.  They  make  a  home  like  this 
for  their  soul.  They  forget  all  the  pleasant  things, 


262  THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING. 

the  joys,  the  mercies,  the  blessings,  and  remember 
only  the  sad,  painful  things.  They  keep  the  heart- 
wounds  of  years  unhealed,  continually  tearing  them 
open  again.  They  cherish  and  nourish  all  their  griefs. 

That  is  not  the  Christian  way  to  deal  with  sorrow. 
If  we  believe  that  our  dead  are  in  immortal  blessed- 
ness with  God,  why  do  we  so  linger  at  the  dark 
grave?  They  are  not  there,  these  departed  ones; 
then  why  not  turn  our  gaze  toward  heaven,  where 
they  wait  ?  We  should  remember  the  things  which 
are  before,  and  forget  the  things  which  are  behind. 
Do  you  grieve?  God  will  never  blame  you  for 
your  grief,  but  He  would  have  you  pour  it  into  the 
channels  of  beautiful,  holy  living.  Let  it  make 
your  heart  more  sympathetic,  your  voice  gentler, 
your  hand  softer,  and  let  it  send  you  out  to  be  a 
comforter  of  others,  and  never  to  cast  the  shadows 
of  your  grief  on  life's  sunny  paths. 

An  officer  leading  a  charge  in  battle  came  to  the 
dead  body  of  his  own  boy,  who  had  fallen  in  an 
advance  line.  His  impulse  was  to  stop,  to  halt  his 
men,  to  neglect  his  duty  in  the  battle,  and  to  weep 
over  his  beloved  son.  But  it  was  the  very  crisis  of 
the  engagement.  He  was  leading  his  men  at  one  of 
the  most  important  points  in  the  field.  He  dare  not 
pause  for  tears.  He  flung  himself  from  his  horse, 
knelt  an  instant  beside  the  body  of  his  boy,  pressed 
a  hot  kiss  upon  the  white  lips,  then  rose  quickly 
and  led  his  men  in  the  assault 


THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING.  263 

We  must  have  our  sorrows,  and  sometimes  they 
are  very  sore.  Our  heart's  first  impulse,  in  such 
experience,  is  to  give  up  our  work,  to  lose  our  place 
in  the  moving  column  of  life's  march,  and  to  linger 
uncomforted  by  our  griefs.  But  we  dare  not  do 
this.  Duty  always  presses,  bidding  us  forward. 
Others  suffer  if  we  linger.  The  living  children  need 
the  mother's  love  and  care,  and  she  must  not  stay  a 
minute  in  neglect  of  them  to  weep  beside  her  dead. 
The  death  of  a  father  calls  the  mother  from  tears,  and 
ordains  her  to  double  duty  and  responsibility.  Be- 
reavement is  always  a  call  to  new  and  sacred  service. 

Then  God  has  so  ordered,  too,  that  in  pressing  on 
in  duty  we  shall  find  the  sweetest,  richest  comfort 
for  ourselves.  Sitting  down  to  brood  over  our 
sorrows,  the  darkness  deepens  about  us,  and  our 
little  strength  changes  to  weakness.  But  if  we 
turn  away  from  the  gloom,  and  take  up  the  tasks 
and  duties  to  which  God  calls  us,  the  light  will 
come  again,  and  we  shall  grow  strong. 

"  When  all  our  hopes  are  gone, 

For  others'  sake 

'Tis  well  our  hands  must  still  keep  toiling  on. 
For  strength  to  bear  is  found  in  duty  done, 
And  he  is  blest,  indeed,  who  learns  to  make 
The  joy  of  others  cure  his  own  heart-ache." 

We  should  forget  also  past  mistakes  and  sins. 
Few  problems  in  life  are  more  important  than  the 
question — how  to  deal  with  our  sins.  It  is  a  won- 


264  THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING. 

derful  truth  that  in  grace  we  can  leave  our  sins 
behind  us  and  go  on  to  new  life.  Were  there  no 
cross  with  its  atoning  sacrifice,  we  could  not  do  this. 
Our  sins  would  cling  to  us  for  ever,  and  blot  our 
skies  with  blackness  that  never  could  be  washed 
white.  But  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanses  from 
all  sins.  God  Himself  forgets  the  sins  He  forgives, 
remembers  them  no  more,  for  ever  leaves  them 
behind ;  and  He  wants  us  to  forget  our  forgiven  sins, 
not  to  waste  one  hour  in  grief  over  them,  but  to 
pour  the  energy  of  our  penitence  into  new  life.  By 
the  power  of  the  divine  grace,  our  sins  and  our  falls 
may  even  be  made  to  yield  blessing.  Many  of  the 
best  things  in  the  old  man's  life  are  the  harvest  of 
his  pehitences  and  repentings.  Through  the  grace 
of  Christ,  we  may  so  deal  with  our  sins  as  to  extract 
blessing  from  their  shame,  sweetness  from  their 
bitterness,  beauty  from  their  loathsomeness.  Our 
very  falls  may  become  new  births  to  our  souls,  and 
we  may  leave  them  behind  us,  using  them  as  step- 
ping-stones to  new  and  holier  life. 

"  Noble  souls,  through  dust  and  heat, 
Rise  from  disaster  and  defeat 

The  stronger ; 

And  conscious  still  of  the  divine 
Within  them,  lie  on  earth  supine 

No  longer." 

Thus  true  life  looks  ever  forward.     We  may  never 
rest.    Our  goal  is  before  us.     We  must  live  loose  to 


THE  DUTY  OF  FORGETTING.  265 

this  world,  never  anchoring  our  barks  for  a  long 
stay.  Our  best  attainments  must  be  but  steps  to 
higher  attainments.  To-day's  achievements  must 
but  inspire  us  for  nobler  achievements  to-morrow. 
"Forward,  and  not  back,"  is  the  true  motto  for  a 
Christian  life.  Even  sorrows  must  not  detain  us, 
and  we  must  take  little  time  for  farewells  and  for 
tears,  so  urgent  is  the  life  of  duty  and  obedience 
which  calls  us  on,  and  so  glorious  are  the  blessings 
that  wait  us.  Even  our  sins  must  not  cause  us  to 
falter,  but  we  must  hasten  away  from  them,  leaving 
the  vales  of  defeat,  to  climb  to  the  holy  heights  of 
victory.  The  best  is  ever  onward  and  forward.  We 
are  not  going  toward  death,  but  toward  life.  What 
we  call  dying  is  but  trampling  to  fragments  the  hin- 
dering walls  of  mortality  and  pressing  through  into 
the  full,  unrestrained,  boundless  blessedness  of  life. 

Such  a  life  as  this  is  possible  only  in  Christ.  If 
we  are  not  Christians,  we  cannot  forget  the  things 
that  are  behind,  for  we  have  nothing  before  us  that 
is  beautiful  and  worthy.  We  cannot  press  forward 
to  the  things  that  are  before — what  is  there  before 
us,  if  we  have  not  Christ,  if  our  sins  are  not  forgiven, 
if  we  have  no  home  and  treasure  in  heaven  ?  How 
can  we  leave  sorrow  behind  if  no  comforter  comes 
with  the  blessed  revealing  of  immortality  ?  The 
realities  of  life  are  the  unseen  things  which  are  ours 
in  Christ.  Heaven  is  always  before  us,  and  heaven 
holds  life's  best  joys,  attainments,  and  treasures. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT. 

Be  near  me  when  all  else  from  me  is  drifting  — 

Earth,  sky,  home's  picture,  days  of  shade  and  shine, 
And  kindly  faces  to  my  own  uplifting 

The  love  that  answers  mine." 

WHITTIEB. 


a  whole  picture  lies  in  a  sentence, 
or  part  of  a  sentence.  Thus  St.  John  describes 
a  scene  on  the  Sea  of  Galilee  :  "  It  was  now  dark, 
and  Jesus  had  not  yet  come  to  them."  The  disciples 
had  been  sent  out  on  the  sea  alone.  Evening  was 
drawing  on.  Moreover,  a  storm  was  gathering,  add- 
ing to  their  anxieties  and  fears.  Their  distress  was 
very  great. 

The  experience  is  repeated  continually  in  the  life 
of  Christ's  friends.  They  are  out  upon  the  sea. 
Darkness  is  coming  on.  Storms  are  rising.  Yet 
they  seem  to  be  left  alone.  Jesus  has  not  come  to 
them.  Why  does  He  leave  us  thus  to  enter  the  night 
without  Him  ?  If  we  read  this  gospel  incident 
through  to  the  close,  and  use  it  as  a  parable,  it  will 
have  rich  instruction  for  us. 


NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT.  267 

It  was  not  the  disciples'  own  doing,  this  being  out 
on  the  sea  that  night;  the  Master  had  sent  them 
out.  This  should  have  been  a  comfort  to  them, 
when  the  darkness  came  on  and  the  waves  began  to 
roll.  No  disobedience  of  their  own  had  brought 
them  into  their  present  circumstances  of  danger. 
They  were  in  the  way  of  obedience. 

The  path  of  duty  does  not  always  lie  in  the  sun- 
shine; sometimes  it  passes  into  the  darkness.  The 
voyage  of  life  is  not  always  over  calm  seas,  with 
gentle,  favouring  breezes ;  sometimes  the  winds  are 
contrary,  and  we  must  move  in  the  teeth  of  the 
tempest.  Darkness  and  tempest  are  not  always 
intimations  that  we  are  in  the  wrong  way.  We 
may  be  in  the  path  of  duty,  of  obedience,  and  yet 
find  gloom  and  contrary  winds.  In  these  cases,  the 
consciousness  that  we  are  doing  the  Master's  will 
ought  to  be  to  us  a  strength  and  a  comfort.  We 
need  never  be  afraid  of  the  night  or  of  the  storm 
into  which  Christ  sends  us.  If  we  go  into  danger 
by  our  own  wilfulness  or  reckless  disobedience,  it  is 
different,  for  then  we  go  without  the  presence  and 
help  of  Christ.  But  when  Christ  has  bidden  us 
take  the  course  in  which  we  meet  night  and  storm, 
we  may  keep  on  our  way,  sure  of  emerging  beyond 
the  gloom  and  the  wild  waves  into  morning  and  calm. 

Another  comfort  in  the  darkness  of  that  night 
was  that,  though  Jesus  had  not  yet  come  to  His 
disciples  in  their  danger,  He  was  not  forgetful  of 


268  NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT. 

them.  One  of  the  Gospels  tells  us  that  from  His 
place  in  the  mountain  He  saw  the  disciples  dis- 
tressed in  rowing.  He  was  caring  for  them  as 
really  as  if  He  had  been  with  them.  We  may  be 
sure  that  this  picture  is  realized  in  the  life  of  every 
Christian  who  seems  to  be  left  alone  in  any  gather- 
ing night.  Jesus  is  still  on  His  mountain  of  inter- 
cession. Though  we  may  not  see  Him,  He  sees  us. 
He  looks  upon  us  in  love.  He  is  aware  of  all  our 
struggles  and  all  our  fears.  The  confidence  that  we 
are  ever  under  the  eye  of  the  watching,  loving 
Christ  ought  to  give  us  strong  comfort. 

In  one  of  the  old  English  prisons  there  was  an 
underground  dungeon  which  was  used  as  a  place 
of  punishment  for  those  who  fell  under  disfavour. 
Among  the  prisoners,  at  one  time,  there  was  a  man 
of  refinement  with  exceedingly  nervous  temperament, 
to  whom  the  horror  of  this  dungeon  was  a  haunting 
terror.  Then  one  day  he  offended  in  some  way,  and 
was  sentenced  to  four-and-twenty  hours  in  this  cell. 
He  was  led  to  the  place,  the  door  was  opened,  and 
he  passed  down  the  stairs  into  the  dark  depths. 
The  shutting  of  the  door  sent  its  echoes  through  the 
gloomy  dungeon.  Then  all  was  still — a  stillness 
that  was  terrible  in  its  oppressiveness.  Nervous 
and  full  of  fear,  the  poor  man  sank  to  the  floor. 
His  brain  throbbed  as  with  fever,  and  mocking 
voices  seemed  to  sound  on  all  sides.  He  felt  that 
the  terror  would  drive  him  mad. 


NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT.  269 

Suddenly  he  heard  footsteps  overhead,  and  then 
a  voice  gently  calling  his  name.  Never  was  any 
music  so  sweet.  "  God  bless  you ! "  he  gasped. 
"  Are  you  there  ? "  "  Yes,"  answered  the  prison 
chaplain ;  "  and  I  am  not  going  to  leave  this  place 
until  you  come  out."  "  God  bless  you ! "  cried  the 
prisoner.  "  Why,  I  do  not  mind  it  at  all  now,  with 
you  there."  The  terror  was  all  gone.  The  darkness 
was  powerless  to  harm  him  while  his  friend  was  so 
near,  close  above  him,  though  unseen. 

So  in  all  the  hours  of  our  darkness,  in  the  blackest 
night,  in  the  deepest  sorrow,  in  the  sorest  perplexity, 
when  we  think  we  are  alone,  while  we  long  for 
Christ's  presence  and  wonder  why  He  comes  not,  He 
is  really  near  us,  watching  us,  caring  for  us,  though 
unseen  by  us.  There  is  no  darkness  where  a  friend 
of  Christ  gropes  that  is  not  swept  by  the  eye  of 
divine  love.  There  is  no  child  of  God  in  the  midst 
of  any  wild  storm  who  is  not  watched  over  and 
sheltered  by  the  divine  care. 

There  is  another  comfort.  There  was  a  time  of 
waiting,  but  at  last  Jesus  came — came  walking  on 
the  tossing  waves,  as  if  they  had  been  a  smooth 
marble  floor.  It  was  wellnigh  morning  when  He 
came — the  fourth  watch  of  the  night.  He  seems  to 
have  waited  till  the  last  moment.  "  Man's  extremity 
is  God's  opportunity."  But  He  came  in  good  time 
to  deliver  His  friends.  When  He  came  He  soon 
brought  peace.  At  His  word  the  terror  of  the 


270  NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT. 

disciples  vanished.     The  wind  also  ceased,  and  the 
sea  became  calm. 

Our  human  hearts  crave  revealings  of  Christ. 
We  are  not  fully  satisfied  with  knowing  that  He  is 
looking  down  upon  us  from  above  the  stars ;  we 
want  to  hear  His  voice.  It  is  a  sore  trial  to  get 
no  answer  to  our  continued  calling.  The  silence  of 
Christ  to  us  when  we  pray  is  very  oppressive.  No 
wonder  the  old  psalm-writer  pleads :  "  Be  not  thou 
silent  to  me :  lest,  if  thou  be  silent  to  me,  I  become 
like  them  that  go  down  into  the  pit."  We  crave 
answer  when  we  pray.  We  cry : — 

"  Speak,  speak,  O  my  Saviour,  to  me  1 

Thy  silence  affrights  me, 

Thy  distance  benights  me 
Through  which  I  hear  not  nor  see ; 

No  voice  and  no  smile  that  invites  me — 
In  vain  I  am  looking  for  Thee. 

"  Oh,  speak  to  me  through  this  murk  shade, 

My  vision  forbidden, 

My  conscience  sore  chidden, 
My  soul,  not  my  senses,  afraid  ; 

From  the  light  of  Thy  countenance  hidden, 
Where  my  feet  have  heedlessly  strayed. 

"iFor  if  Thou  keep  silent  to  me, 

Rather  my  choice  is 

To  hearken  no  voices, 
And  song's  sweet  enchantment  to  flee ; 

That  cloys  me  which  elsewhere  rejoices, 
Afar  from  my  hearing  of  Thee. 


NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT.  271 

"  Speak,  Lord,  then,  if  but  to  reveal 

The  wilful  demerit 

Searing  my  spirit — 
And  even  Thy  chiding  shall  steal 

Like  balm  to  my  heart  aa  I  hear  it, 
And  so  wound  it  only  to  heal. 

"  For  when  Thou  hast  spoken  to  me, 

Consciously  nearer, 

I  shall  see  clearer 
Thy  face  but  for  thinking  I  see ; 

And  thought  of  Thee  then  growing  dearer, 
Gloom  with  the  silence  shall  flee." 

When  at  length,  after  long  waiting,  the  voice  of 
Christ  falls  upon  our  ears  in  our  darkness  and  sor- 
row, the  gloom  does  indeed  flee.  Even  the  voice  of 
a  human  loved  one  speaking  in  the  darkness  calms 
the  tempest  in  our  breast  and  fills  the  darkness  as 
with  gentle  light.  We  feel  afraid  no  longer;  the 
voice  reveals  a  presence,  and  we  are  comforted.  But 
the  revealing  of  Christ  in  our  time  of  dread  means 
infinitely  more  of  peace  and  comfort.  When  He 
comes,  fear  flees  and  peace  fills  the  lonely,  trembling 
heart.  And  He  will  surely  come.  His  delays  are 
not  desertions.  At  the  right  moment,  when  He  has 
taught  us  all  the  lessons  we  need  to  learn  by  His 
absence  and  His  silence  to  us,  He  will  return,  driving 
away  the  darkness  and  quieting  the  storms  by  His 
presence  and  His  words  of  love. 

This  picture— entering  the  night  and  the  storm 
with  Jesus  absent — has  another  suggestion  for  us. 
These  disciples  who  put  out  to  sea  as  the  darkness 


272  NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT. 

came  on,  with  the  Master  not  yet  come  to  them, 
represent  all  who  enter  life  without  Christ.  Life 
seems  bright  and  sunny  to  youth  with  its  inexperi- 
ence. It  has  no  nights  and  no  storms.  But  we  do 
not  pass  far  into  the  years  that  bring  their  duty, 
responsibility,  and  care,  until  we  come  to  experiences 
of  struggle  and  toil.  Life  soon  grows  serious.  In 
the  Revelation,  where  the  blessings  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  are  described,  we  learn  that  all  noble  at- 
tainments in  spiritual  character,  and  all  life's  rewards 
and  prizes,  lie  beyond  lines  of  battle.  It  is  only  to 
"  him  who  overcoineth "  that  these  blessings  are 
promised.  The  youth  does  not  advance  far  till  he 
learns  that  life  is  not  play,  but  most  earnest  business. 
Nothing  can  be  accomplished  without  effort.  Toil 
is  the  price  of  success.  To  loiter  is  to  lose  all ;  to 
falter  is  to  fail.  At  every  point  antagonisms  meet 
him,  and  he  must  fight  for  his  very  life.  He  soon 
learns,  too,  that  if  he  has  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
for  his  friend  and  helper,  he  can  never  make  his  way 
to  the  worthy  things  which  lie  on  the  hill-tops  beyond 
the  vales  of  struggle. 

No  doubt  many  people  do  live  all  their  life  with- 
out Christ.  They  do  not  confess  their  need  of  Him. 
They  shut  Him  out  of  their  experiences.  They 
struggle  alone.  They  meet  their  responsibilities 
unaided  by  divine  grace.  No  doubt,  too,  they  may 
seem  to  succeed.  They  prosper  in  the  world.  But 
they  live  only  an  earthly  life.  They  ignore  their 


NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT.  273 

own  higher  nature.  They  ignore  God  and  heaven 
and  immortality.  They  gain  the  world  and  lose 
themselves.  No  life  is  worthy  of  an  immortal  being 
which  does  not  gain  the  higher  things  of  the  soul. 
A  picture  with  only  earth,  and  no  sky,  is  tame,  and 
lacks  truest  beauty.  A  life  without  sky  and  stars 
and  heaven  is  unworthy  the  name  of  life.  Besides, 
its  seeming  success  is  really  terrible  disaster — the 
loss  of  eternity.  No  one  can  meet  life  without 
Christ. 

There  is  the  experience  of  temptation.  We  do  not 
live  many  years  before  we  come  to  it.  No  one  can 
escape  it.  Even  the  sinless  Jesus  had  to  meet  it. 
Temptation  is  ofttimes  a  black  night  for  the  soul 
that  enters  into  it.  The  scene  of  the  disciples  strug- 
gling in  the  darkness  with  contrary  winds,  distressed 
in  rowing,  scarcely  able  to  guide  their  boat  through 
the  tempest,  is  not  too  stern  a  picture  of  the  experi- 
ence of  many  a  soul  in  the  struggles  of  temptation 
without  Christ.  We  are  such  fools  in  our  self-confi- 
dence. "  Others  have  fallen — yes,  but  we  shall  not 
fall.  Others  have  perished  in  the  darkness — yes, 
but  we  shall  not  perish.  Others  have  had  to  cry 
out  for  help  when  they  had  fallen,  lying  in  their 
defeat  until  some  one  came  to  lift  them  up — yes,  but 
we  shall  not  fall ;  we  shall  not  be  defeated."  So  we 
talk,  as  we  foolishly  pass  into  the  darkness  and  the 
storm  without  Christ. 

But  we  should  not  dare  to  pass  into  the  dark 

(538)  18 


274  NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT. 

night  and  out  upon  the  wild  sea  of  temptation  with- 
out Christ.  Human  help  is  something.  We  are  to 
go  to  our  brothers  who  have  fallen,  to  lift  them  up, 
and  our  hands  are  to  be  as  Christ's  hands  for  this 
blessed  ministry.  But  if  human  hands  were  the  only 
ones,  none  could  ever  be  kept  from  falling,  nor  could 
any  ever  be  lifted  up  and  helped  on  to  the  end.  We 
must  have  Christ  in  temptation,  or  we  shall  perish. 

There  is  also  the  experience  of  sorrow,  which  every 
life  must  meet.  In  sunny  youth  sorrow  seems  very 
far  off.  The  skies  are  blue.  Flowers  spring  up 
along  the  path.  Soft  breezes  fan  the  cheeks.  Joy 
is  everywhere.  Hope  shines  in  all  the  future.  But 
there  comes  a  time  when  it  grows  dark.  Sorrow 
covers  the  heavens  with  blackness.  If  Christ  be  not 
present  with  His  love  and  light  and  comfort  as  the 
soul  passes  into  sorrow's  night,  it  will  be  very  dark 
indeed. 

Then  there  is  the  darkness  of  death.  We  may 
miss  many  things  in  this  world.  Our  path  may  lie 
all  the  way  in  sunshine.  There  are  some  lives  which 
seem  to  be  spared  great  conflicts  and  struggles,  which 
are  called  to  pass  through  no  bitter  griefs.  But  not 
one  of  us  can  hope  to  miss  dying.  We  must  come 
down  to  the  edge  of  the  valley  of  death.  We  must 
enter  into  the  darkness.  What  will  any  of  us  do 
then  without  Christ?  The  disciples  trembled  and 
were  afraid  when  night  came  on,  and  when  they  had 
to  put  out  upon  the  sea  in  the  darkness  without 


NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT.  275 

Jesus.  But  that  sea  was  only  a  little  lake,  a  few 
miles  over ;  and  they  were  familiar  with  every  part 
of  it,  for  they  had  spent  their  life  about  it  and  upon 
it.  The  darkness,  too,  would  be  but  for  a  few  hours, 
with  morning  following.  Far  more  momentous  an 
experience  is  it  to  go  out  upon  the  sea  of  death.  We 
have  never  passed  this  way  heretofore,  and  all  is 
strange  and  unfamiliar.  Where  the  shores  stretch 
we  cannot  tell.  What  is  in  its  deep,  black  night  no 
imagination  can  paint.  But  for  the  Christian,  death 
has  no  terrors.  Christ  has  made  the  way  bright 
with  peace.  He  walks  with  His  own,  and  they 
sing:— 

"  Yea,  e'en  when  I  walk  in  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
No  ill  do  I  fear,  for  Thou  art  beside  me ; 
Thy  sceptre  and  staff  are  my  comfort." 

But  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  die  without  Christ. 
Saddest  of  all  pictures  is  that  of  those  whom  these 
words  describe  as  entering  the  night  of  death:  "It 
was  now  dark,  and  Jesus  had  not  come  to  them." 

This  lifting  of  the  veil  at  a  few  points  shows  how 
real  is  the  soul's  need  of  Christ,  and  how  dreary,  sad, 
and  perilous  it  is  to  pass  into  these  experiences  with- 
out Christ.  If  any  one  thinks  that  life  has  been 
depicted  here  in  too  sombre  and  serious  colours,  it 
may  be  said  that  without  Christ  life  is  a  most  grave 
and  serious  matter.  How  can  a  man  live — entering 
life's  battles,  accepting  its  responsibilities,  assuming 


276  NIGHT,  AND  JESUS  ABSENT. 

its  duties,  passing  into  its  sorrows,  or  think  of  taking 
its  last  walk  into  the  shadows — without  Christ  ? 

A  thoughtful  man  gave  three  reasons  why  he  had 
not  become  an  infidel  after  reading  all  the  books 
written  against  Christianity.  "First,  I  am  a  man. 
I  am  going  somewhere.  To-night  I  am  a  day  nearer 
the  grave  than  I  was  last  night.  I  have  read  all 
that  the  sceptics  can  tell  me.  They  shed  not  one 
solitary  ray  of  hope  or  light  upon  the  darkness. 
They  shall  not  take  away  the  guide  and  leave  me 
stone-blind.  Second,  I  had  a  mother.  I  saw  her  go 
down  into  the  dark  valley  where  I  am  going,  and  she 
leaned  on  an  unseen  arm  as  calmly  as  a  child  goes 
to  sleep  on  its  mother's  breast.  I  know  that  was  a 
reality,  not  a  dream.  Third,  I  have  three  motherless 
daughters.  They  have  no  protection  but  myself. 
I  would  rather  see  them  dead  than  leave  them  in 
this  sinful  world  if  you  blot  out  from  it  all  the 
teachings  of  the  gospel" 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 

"  They  are  slipping  away,  these  sweet,  swift  years, 

Like  a  leaf  on  the  current  cast, 
With  never  a  break  in  the  rapid  flow. 
We  watch  them  as  one  by  one  they  go 

Into  the  beautiful  past. 

"  One  after  another  we  see  them  pass 

Down  the  dim-lighted  stair ; 
We  hear  the  sound  of  their  steady  tread 
In  the  steps  of  the  centuries  long  since  dead, 

As  beautiful  and  as  fair." 

WHAT  is  it  to  number  our  days  ?  One  way  is 
to  keep  careful  record  of  them.  That  is  a 
mathematical  numbering.  We  say  we  are  so  many 
years  old.  We  note  our  birthdays.  But  that  is  not 
the  numbering  which  is  meant  in  the  old-time  Bible 
prayer :  "  Teach  us  to  number  our  days."  Mere  add- 
ing of  days  is  not  living.  There  are  those  whose 
years  leave  no  blessing  in  the  world,  and  who  gather 
no  growth  of  good  or  wisdom  into  their  own  hearts 
as  they  pass  through  life.  There  are  people  who 
live  to  be  seventy  years,  eighty  years  old,  who  might 
as  well  never  have  been  born. 


278  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 

"  It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree, 
In  bulk,  doth  make  a  man  better  be ; 
Or  standing  like  an  oak,  three  hundred  year, 
To  fall  a  log  at  last — dry,  bald,  and  sere." 

Another  way  of  numbering  our  days  is  illustrated 
by  the  story  of  a  prisoner.  When  he  first  entered 
his  cell,  he  made  marks  on  the  wall  of  all  the  days 
of  the  sentence  he  was  to  serve.  Then  at  the  close 
of  each  day  he  would  rub  off  one  mark.  He  had 
one  day  more  of  prison  life  put  in,  and  there  was 
one  day  less  for  him  to  remain.  This  process  he 
continued  till  he  had  completed  the  time  of  his 
incarceration.  Each  one  of  us  every  evening  has 
one  day  more  expunged  from  his  appointed  time  on 
earth.  One  day  more  is  gone,  with  its  opportunities, 
its  privileges,  its  duties,  its  responsibilities — gone 
beyond  recall.  We  can  never  get  it  back  to  change 
anything,  to  undo  any  wrong  done  in  it,  to  do  any 
omitted  duties  that  belonged  to  it,  to  take  any  gift 
or  blessing  that  was  offered  and  rejected  during  the 
bright  hours,  to  seize  any  opportunity  that  came 
and  passed. 

There  is  something  startling  in  this  thought  of  the 
irrevocableness  of  time  past.  At  the  close  of  a  day 
one  line  more  is  blotted  from  the  column  and  gone 
for  ever  from  us.  If  we  have  lived  the  day  well,  it 
is  all  right.  Days  that  go  from  us  filled  with  true, 
sweet,  noble  living,  the  little  page  written  all  over 
with  pure,  white  thoughts  and  records  of  gentle 
deeds,  need  never  be  mourned  over.  But  it  is  a  sad 


NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS.  279 

thing  to  have  to  rub  out  the  lines  of  days  of  idle- 
ness, of  uncleanness,  of  selfishness,  of  lost  opportu- 
nities, of  unaccepted  privileges  and  blessings.  Such 
numbering  of  days  is  not  the  numbering  Moses  had 
in  mind.  Such  days  are  lost  days. 

"  Who's  seen  my  day  ? 
Tie  gone  away, 
Nor  left  a  trace 
In  any  place. 
If  I  could  only  find 
Its  footfall  in  some  mind, 
Some  spirit-waters  stirred 
By  wand  of  deed  or  word, 
I  should  not  stand  at  shadowy  eve 
And  for  my  day  so  grieve  and  grieve." 

The  true  way  of  numbering  our  days  is  suggested 
in  the  prayer  in  the  old  psalm  when  we  read  it  in 
full :  "  So  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may 
get  us  an  heart  of  wisdom."  We  are  so  to  live  our 
days  as  they  pass  that  we  shall  get  new  wisdom 
from  them.  Life's  lessons  cannot  all  be  learned 
from  books.  The  teachings  may  be  set  down  in 
books,  but  it  is  only  in  actual  living  that  we  can 
learn  them.  For  example,  patience.  A  book  or  a 
teacher  may  tell  us  very  clearly  what  patience  is, 
what  it  does,  how  it  bears  itself  amid  life's  frictions ; 
but  learning  all  this  will  not  make  us  patient.  We 
must  get  our  patience  in  the  school  of  life. 

We  talk  of  learning  from  the  experience  of  other 
people.  There  are  things  we  can  get  in  this  way. 


280  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 

Probably  we  ought  to  learn  more  than  most  of  us 
do  from  those  who  have  gone  over  the  way  before 
us.  But  the  truth  is,  we  have  to  go  over  the  path 
ourselves  to  get  its  lessons.  We  have  to  learn  by 
doing,  by  failing,  by  stumbling,  by  suffering,  by 
making  our  own  mistakes,  by  enduring  the  results 
and  consequences  of  our  own  self-conceit  and  folly. 

Out  of  the  experience  of  our  days  we  ought  to  get 
a  heart  of  wisdom.  Some  people  never  do.  Said 
the  wise  man,  "  Though  thou  shouldest  bray  a  fool  in 
a  mortar  with  a  pestle  among  bruised  corn,  yet  will 
not  his  foolishness  depart  from  him."  There  are 
plenty  of  such  fools  all  the  time.  They  make  the 
same  mistake  over  and  over,  suffering  always  from 
it  in  the  same  way,  but  never  learning  wisdom  from 
the  experience.  This  is  most  unprofitable  living. 
We  ought  to  get  a  heart  of  wisdom  from  the  passing 
days. 

We  come  to  a  birthday  or  a  new  year.  We  can- 
not change  anything  that  has  been  done  in  our  year. 
It  is  idle  even  to  waste  a  moment  in  weeping  over 
the  mistakes  we  have  made,  the  follies  we  have 
committed.  Tears  will  blot  out  nothing  that  life 
has  written  on  its  folded  pages.  Grieving  will  not 
correct  mistakes.  But  we  ought  to  learn  wisdom 
from  the  year's  experiences.  "  To  err  is  human ; " 
but  we  ought  not  to  repeat  our  errings.  We  ought 
not  to  need  to  be  brayed  twice  in  the  same  mortar. 
We  ought  not  to  burn  our  fingers  twice  in  the  same 


NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS.  281 

fire.  We  ought  not  to  be  deceived  twice  by  the 
same  temptation. 

We  ought  to  begin  our  new  year  with  a  wiser 
heart.  Life  should  be  cumulative.  Each  year  should 
be  lived  on  a  higher  plane  than  the  last  one.  with 
a  truer  view  of  life's  object,  with  increased  energy. 
The  hurts  made  this  year  by  the  things  that  have 
happened  to  us  should  become  new  adornments  and 
enrichments  in  our  character.  If  we  are  living  right, 
obediently,  and  near  the  heart  of  Christ,  all  things 
will  work  together  for  good  to  us.  It  is  the  part  of 
wisdom  to  take  out  of  all  things  the  good  which  the 
love  of  God  would  give  to  us. 

No  matter,  then,  what  the  experience  of  any  clos- 
ing year  has  been  to  us,  it  is  our  privilege  and  the 
part  of  wisdom  in  us  to  carry  from  it  some  good.  It 
is  sad  indeed  if  we  have  lived  through  three  hundred 
and  sixty-five  days,  with  their  burdens,  duties,  cares, 
sorrows,  gains,  losses,  joys,  pains,  mistakes,  successes, 
failures,  loves,  and  are  no  wiser,  no  better,  stronger, 
more  Christlike,  than  we  were  when  we  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  year.  He  who  has  lived  well  carries 
the  marks  of  the  year's  experiences  in  his  character 
in  larger,  truer,  nobler,  stronger  manhood. 

Some  people  talk  sadly  of  the  closing  of  a  year. 
They  think  of  it  as  a  friend  with  whom  they  have 
walked  in  close  companionship,  from  whom  they 
must  now  separate  themselves.  We  talk  of  the 
dying  of  the  year  when  we  approach  its  close ;  but 


282  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 

better  is  the  thought  that  it  is  a  living  year  from 
which  we  are  parting.  No  year  in  which  we  have 
lived  and  wrought  ever  can  be  a  dead  year.  One 
writes: — 

"  Why  cry  so  many  voices,  choked  with  tears, 
'  The  year  is  dead  '  ?    It  rather  seems  to  me 
Full  of  such  rich  and  boundless  life  to  be, 
It  is  a  presage  of  the  eternal  years. 
Must  it  not  live  in  us  while  we,  too,  live  ? 
Part  of  ourselves  are  now  the  joys  it  brought ; 
Part  of  ourselves  is,  too,  the  good  it  wrought 
In  days  of  darkness.    Years  to  come  may  give 
Less  conflict,  less  pain,  less  doubt,  dismay, 
A  larger  share  of  brightness,  than  this  last ; 
But  victory  won  in  darkness  that  is  past 
Is  a  possession  that  will  far  outweigh 
All  that  we  have  lost.     So  let  us  rather  cry, 
1  This  year  of  grace  still  lives ;  it  cannot  die.1 " 

If  we  have  lived  truly,  earnestly,  wisely,  any  year 
we  have  passed  through  is  to  us  indeed  a  living  year. 
It  lives  in  us  in  its  lessons,  its  disillusions,  its  im- 
pressions, its  influences,  its  new  strength  gained  in 
struggle,  its  victories,  its  testings,  its  cleansings,  its 
new  revealings  of  God,  its  friendships  and  fellowships. 
It  lives  in  us,  too,  in  its  losses  which  have  been 
turned  to  gains,  its  sorrows  which  have  been  illu- 
mined by  divine  comfort.  Then  the  year  lives,  too, 
if  we  have  been  faithful  in  love's  duty,  in  the  things 
we  have  done,  in  the  words  we  have  spoken,  the 
influences  of  good  we  have  given  out.  We  have 
dropped  seeds  and  planted  trees  which  shall  be  grow- 
ing and  bearing  fruit  and  feeding  the  world's  hunger 


NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS.  283 

long  years  hence.  If  we  have  numbered  our  days 
aright,  an  old  year  is  indeed  a  living  year,  crowded 
with  life — a  year  which  shall  tell  on  all  our  future 
years,  and  which  shall  make  the  world's  life  better, 
sweeter,  richer,  nobler. 

The  lesson  may  be  broken  up  a  little.  We  so 
number  our  days  when  we  give  to  each  one  as  it 
passes  its  own  measure  of  faithfulness.  Days  come 
to  us  one  by  one.  God  breaks  up  His  great  years 
into  little  sections  for  us  that  we  may  be  able  to  get 
along  with  our  work,  our  burdens,  and  our  struggles. 
He  who  has  learned  this  secret  has  gotten  part  at 
least  of  this  lesson  into  his  heart.  Take  the  single 
days  as  they  come  to  you.  Look  not  beyond  the 
horizon  which  night  stretches  so  short  a  way  before 
you.  Take  the  one  little  day.  Do  all  its  duties 
faithfully;  accept  its  blessings;  seize  its  opportu- 
nities; endure  its  trials;  meet  its  temptations  vic- 
toriously ;  bear  its  burdens ;  open  your  heart  to  its 
love ;  miss  not  its  privileges ;  do  all  the  kindness 
you  can ; — make  it  a  beautiful  day. 

Any  one  can  live  one  single  day  sweetly,  victori- 
ously. Make  to-day  beautiful.  Then  do  the  same 
with  to-morrow,  and  with  the  next  day,  and  so  on 
to  the  end  of  your  life.  Thus  you  will  number  your 
days  in  a  way  that  will  make  them  bright  with 
divine  radiancy.  Thus  you  will  write  on  each  day's 
page  a  record  of  which  you  will  not  be  ashamed 
when  it  is  spread  before  you  on  the  judgment  day. 


284  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 

We  can  never  number  our  days  rightly  if  we  do 
not  have  God  in  them.  We  ask  God  to  teach  us  to 
number  our  days.  One  of  the  first  lessons  of  true 
wisdom  we  have  to  learn  is  that  we  cannot  leave 
God  out  of  our  life.  Human  guidance  has  its  place. 
It  is  one  of  Christ's  ways  of  guiding  us.  We  all  feel 
stronger  for  tried  human  companionship,  for  wise 
human  counsel ;  but  the  human  is  not  enough. 
Human  wisdom  is  fallible ;  human  strength  is  often 
weakness.  We  must  have  Christ  as  guide  and  com- 
panion. Our  morning  prayer  each  day  should  be, 
"  Lord,  teach  Thou  me  to  number  my  days." 

We  need  God's  forgiveness  on  the  best  of  our  days. 
Can  we  hold  up  our  hands  before  God  at  the  close 
of  any  day,  and  say,  "  I  am  free  from  sin.  I  have 
lived  this  day  perfectly.  I  have  not  blotted  any  of 
its  white  moments.  I  have  spoken  only  good  words. 
I  have  done  only  right  things.  I  have  no  sins  to 
confess  "  ?  We  have  failed  in  our  endeavours.  We 
have  fallen  below  even  our  own  ideals.  We  have 
done  things  we  ought  not  to  have  done ;  we  have 
left  undone  things  we  ought  to  have  done.  We 
have  failed  in  our  duties  to  each  other — love's  duties, 
We  have  not  been  always  charitable  toward  the 
faults  and  infirmities  of  others.  We  have  not  been 
always  kind,  gentle,  and  forgiving.  We  have  not 
been  always  the  good  Samaritan  to  the  wounded 
ones  we  have  found  in  life's  tragic  way.  Then  toward 
God  we  have  been  remiss.  We  have  done  at  best 


NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS.  285 

only  fragments  of  our  duty.  There  is  not  one  day 
when  our  evening  prayer  could  be  closed  without 
the  confession  of  sin  and  the  pleading  for  mercy. 
Four  days  before  her  death,  Helen  Hunt  Jackson 
wrote  this  prayer : — 

"  Father,  I  scarcely  dare  to  pray, 

So  clear  I  see,  now  it  is  done, 
That  I  have  wasted  half  my  day, 

And  left  my  work  but  just  begun ; 
So  clear  I  see  that  things  I  thought 

Were  right  or  harmless  were  a  sin ; 
So  clear  I  see  that  I  have  sought, 

Unconscious,  selfish  aims  to  win ; 
So  clear  I  see  that  I  have  hurt 

The  souls;!  might  have  helped  to  save ; 
That  I  have  slothful  been,  inert, 

Deaf  to  the  call  Thy  leaders  gave." 

We  need  God,  too,  in  getting  a  heart  of  wisdom 
from  our  experiences.  As  soon  as  we  find  a  fault 
in  our  disposition  or  character,  we  should  set  to  work 
to  have  it  cured.  As  soon  as  we  see  a  duty  which 
we  ought  to  do,  but  which  thus  far  we  have  failed 
to  do,  we  should  immediately  begin  doing  it.  ^We 
should  be  ever  reaching  after  the  finest  things  in 
life  and  character — whatsoever  things  are  true,  what- 
soever things  are  lovely.  When  we  make  a  mistake, 
it  is  idle  to  spend  time  weeping  over  it — tears  wash 
out  no  blot,  make  no  amends — rather  we  should  put 
all  the  energy  of  our  regret  into  better  living,  guard- 
ing well  lest  we  fall  into  the  same  error  again  to- 
morrow and  to-morrow  and  to-morrow,  until  our  feet 


286 


NUMBERING  OUR  DAY& 


have  worn  a  path  for  themselves  in  the  wrong  way 
The  wisdom  we  expect  to  get  from  experience  is 
•  wisdom  for  life,  that  we  may  daily  grow  in  beauty 
of  soul,  in  strength  of  character,  and  in  helpfulness 
to  our  fellow-men.  In  all  this  we  need  God.  We 
never  can  reach  true  spiritual  loveliness  without 
divine  gifts.  As  the  sweetest  flower  needs  the  sun- 
shine and  the  rain  or  dew  from  heaven,  so  do  our 
lives  need  heaven's  benediction  to  give  them  true 
loveliness. 

"  The  spider  walks  with  wit  and  will, 

She  frames  her  wheel,  and  she  is  sped  ; 
But  'tis  the  dew's  gift,  not  her  skill, 
That  hangs  with  diamonds  every  thread. 

"With  pains  and  patience  we  no  less 

Shape  out  our  lives  ;  but  yet  allow 
That  all  our  brightest  happiness 
Is  sent  from  heaven,  we  know  not  how." 


THE   END. 


I   I 


